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[All rights of Translation and Reproduction are reserved.'] 



THE present volume contains the whole of Orthodox 
London, parts I. and II., with the exception of a few 
chapters that possessed no permanent interest, and with 
the addition of some portions of Heterodox and Mystic 
London. The Annual Register for 1873, when com- 
menting on these books, flatteringly supposes that they 
may one day possess historical interest. ' What would 
we not give/ it asks, ' for an equally fair and graphic 
picture of the religious bill of fare furnished for the 
England of two or three centuries a,go ? ' Perhaps the 
purport of this particular volume could not be better 
described than by quoting some subsequent words in 
the same article. 'Dr Davies/ it is added, ' finds 
differences ^as great among the "orthodox" divines 
themselves as among some of the ff unorthodox " and 
those on the other side of the border/ It is even so ; 
and the discovery need not shake faith in the Church 
of England as by Law Established - } rather the reverse, 
suggesting Tennyson's words : 

' Not like to like, but like in difference' 













AT THE GOLDEN LECTUEE . . . . . . 82 








EARLY MASS . . . . . . . . 139 

THE ' TWELVE DAYS* MISSION ' . . . . . . 144 


DOING DECOEATIONS . . . . . . . . 160 



MIDNIGHT MASS . . . . . . . . 1 66 

WATCH-NIGHT . . . . . . . . 170 


A SILENT SERVICE . . . . . . . . 180 

INNOCENTS' DAY . . " . . . . . . 183 



A BISHOP'S BUEIAL . . . . . . . . 199 

A CHILDREN'S SERVICE . . . . . . 205 



THE PRIMATE IN THE CITY . . . . . . 224 












CHURCH OF ENGLAND MONKS . . . . . . 326 

A SERMON ON PHYSIOLOGY . . . . . . 331 



A HOME OF COMPASSION ... . . . . 356 



A HAYFAIR MISSION . . . . . . . . 361 





III. THE MISSION PROPER . . . . . . 386 

IV. A CALL TO CONFESSION . . . . . . 390 

V. SERVICES FOR WOMEN . . . . . . 395 


THE CHURCH IN THE NEW CUT . . . . . . 407 


AN ORGAN RECITAL . . . . . . ... 422 

AN ANGLICAN MASS . . . . . . . . 429 

A CHORAL WEDDING . . . . . . . . 434 

A CHORAL FUNERAL . . . , . . . . 439 

THE FLOWER SERMON . . . . . . . . 443 

APPENDIX . . . . . . . . . . 449 




A MONG the revelations of modern science none are 
-i- more wonderful than those which tell of the richness 
and complexity of natnre. Everywhere there is life 
within life,, there are worlds beyond worlds. Not only,, 
as we were made uncomfortably aware by visits to the 
Polytechnic in childhood., has the smallest drop of 
drinking-water its multitudinous inhabitants, but the 
parasitic animal whose world is the body of an insect 
has its parasite ; not only again are there ' more worlds 
than one/ but, outside the limits of our own planetary 
system, science begins to probe the suns of the galaxy 
and to delve into the mysteries of nebular as well as 
stellar cosmogony. Such are among the disclosures of 
the microscope and telescope respectively. 

And something analogous to this is discoverable in 
the social and religious world. Where all seemed 
heretofore ' simplex et unum/ we are daily finding out 
distinctions of which our forefathers never dreamed. To 
take a single instance from political life. Parties can 
no longer be ranged under the two divergent standards 
of Whig' and Tory. We are obliged to coin such terms 
as Liberal- Conservative, &c., which would, a generation 
ago, have sounded about as comprehensible as White- 
Black or Hot-Cold. The same may be said of the re- 

1 . . i/ 

"gious world. The comprehensive distinctions of Pro- 



testant and Catholic seemed to our good old illogical 
ancestors quite sufficient to embrace all possible forms 
of thought that special term ' Catholic ' being quietly- 
conceded to the most protesting creed of Christendom. 
Now we have discovered that even Catholicism is not so 
'much at one as it claims to be. There are Catholics 
and Catholics, even within the fold of St Peter. Out- 
side, the Anglican claims to be Anglo-Catholic too, 
tolerating the incongruity of the title for the sake of 
the ' protest ; against Roman assumption which it in- 
volves; and, to pass by the multiform. ( variations of 
Protestantism/ the Established Church herself numbers 
at least three great parties, the High Church, the Low 
Church, and the Broad Church. Satire still further 
subdivides them, cataloguing High Church, Dry Church, 
Low Church, and Slow Church. It was reserved for a 
Ritualistic Review some time since to add yet another 
branch in ' Fast Church/ to which it consigned the 
author of a certain obnoxious publication. But even 
this is not all. 

I myself was employed, a year or two ago, as special 
commissioner of a widely- circulated London newspaper, 
to describe the various phases of religious life in the 
metropolis ; and not only was I amazed at the undreamed- 
of fertility of the subject, which seemed literally to grow 
as I wrote not only did I meet with strange outlying 
sects, such as Christadelphians, Sandemanians, &c., of 
which the very names sounded foreign, but within the 
bodies of Protestantism themselves I still found that 
marvellous complication that system of wheel within 
wheel alluded to above. Plymouth Brethren were not 
simply Plymouth Brethren they were Kellyites, 
Darbyites, or Newtonites. Even Jews, who seemed the 
very representative men of Unity and Indivisibility, 
were split up into the two sections Orthodox and Re- 
formed differing in practice, if not in faith, almost as 
widely as Catholics and Protestants. There were varieties 
of -doctrine or discipline even among Quakers and 
Jumpers. I feel sure all is not one even in Mr Prince's 


And this remark, which. I here make of other reli- 
gious bodies, comes strangely home to ourselves. The 
differences which fence off certain Nonconformist com- 
munities from the Establishment are, I find, often 
smaller than those which separate sections of the 
Establishment itself. It were invidious to mention 
names, though they rise almost instinctively to one's lips; 
but the differences between a moderate Unitarian and 
an advanced Broad Churchman or between an ultra- 
Evangelical and the star of some little Bethel would 
be considerably less than between the Broad Churchman 
and the Bethelite themselves. St Alban's, Holborn, 
resembles the Roman Catholic Church in Field Lane or. 
Moorfields far more nearly than it does the ' Established' 
places of worship in Bedford Row or Islington. 

It occurred to me, then, that an interesting and 
possibly not unedifying study might be entered upon 
without wandering beyond the pale of ' the Church of 
England as by law established/ To portray the various 
nuances of belief and their embodiment in practice 
among the . different strata of the Church of England 
might be no unworthy subject even for the pen of an 
ecclesiastical Ulysses who has wandered so widely, seen 
the dwellings of so many men, and studied their customs ! 
It is such a series of papers I now commence ; and, as 
on the previous occasion, I would premise, first, that I 
use the term ' Orthodox ' colloquially and half under 
protest to signify simply forms of faith and practice 
which are comprised within the elastic limits of the 
Established Church ; and secondly, that I by no means 
presume to adopt the term etymologically, or to say 
who is right and who wrong, or even whom I think to 
be right and wrong. My mission is, I feel, only to 
describe, not to. sit in judgment. Were the latter in 
any sense my function, I shouM certainly shrink from 
so delicate a duty as the portraiture of Orthodox London. 
Sects external to the Church I might have ventured to 
pass in review though I did not ; but esprit de corps, 
if nothing else, would have shut my mouth on the 
subject of the Church in which I am an ordained and 
officiating minister. 


The ordinary and proverbial difficulty of a ' beginning' 
scarcely attaches to me in the execution of my present 
mission. To inaugurate an attempt so thoroughly 
eclectic in its nature as the present series, I felt at once 
that I must select a Broad Church clergyman for my 
' representative man ; ' though I shall at once make the 
amende honorable by following up my sketch with a 
typical High Churchman and Evangelical ; but the 
Broad Churchman must plainly be to the front. Where, 
in surveying the metropolitan horizon, should I find the 
most pronounced individual of the genus ? I might 
have fixed on a well-known dignitary of the Church, 
which I did not, because he was a dignitary and had 
been f done j to death. I might even, without being 
untrue to my title, have selected a clergyman of the 
Church of England whose breadth has proved as fatal 
to him as it did to the frog in the fable, yet who still 
claims to belong to the larger Church of England which 
is not, for the nonce, any national church. There were 
one or two well-known names which put in a claim, and 
whose claim I ignored for the very reason that they 
were well-known, choosing in preference a gentleman 
who, though well-known too, is not as widely or gener- 
ally known as he deserves to be ; and who, in my 
judgment, is incomparably best qualified to represent 
advanced thought in the Church of England at the 
present moment namely, the Rev. H. R. Haweis, In- 
cumbent of St Jameses Chapel, Westmoreland Street, 

There is one book, lying a little way out of the beaten 
track of literature, which I am constantly surprised fco 
find unknown even by reading people : I mean Bailey's 
f Festus/ Considering the intrinsic character of the 
poem and the way in which it has been lauded by such 
men as Tennyson, Thackeray, and Lord Lytton, it 
seems marvellous that any intellectual person should be 
ignorant of the book. Yet such I constantly find to be 
the case, as also with one or two other works I could 
name. So, too, not to know Mr Haweis might seem, 
in the case of Londoners at least, to argue yourself 


unknown. Yet so it is. I am constantly asked, ' Who 
is Mr Haweis ? Where, is St James's, Marylebone ? 3 
Writing^ not for the initiated few, but exoterically for 
the uninformed many, it is a visit to St James's Chapel 
and a characteristic sermon by Mr Haweis I would 
make the subject of my present paper. 

Westmoreland Street is a turning out of Weymouth 
Street, in that network of central London known prin- 
cipally to cabmen, and forming part of the purlieus of 
Manchester Square. It must, I am very much afraid, 
be set down in Cockney parlance as a slum, and the 
exterior of the sacred edifice is thoroughly in keeping 
with its surroundings. An sesthetic High Churchman 
might deem he had come to the Ultima Thule of religious 
London, indeed, as his cab deposited him before the 
unsightly doors of St James's. Should the plans of 
the incumbent be carried out this will not be the case 
beyond the present season. The sepulchre is at all 
events to be whitened. The facade is to be made as 
sightly as it can be short of utter demolition, and a 
bell-tower is to replace the present rickety belfry, which, 
it seems, is not only hideous but dangerous. Presenting 
myself at this unattractive portal one Sunday morning, 
I was confronted by the orthodox beadle in his Bumble 
livery, who passed me on to the conventional pew- 
opener, with cap perhaps a trifle, but only a trifle, more 
jaunty than at the neighbouring Evangelical churches. 
There were evident symptoms of a congregation. Camp- 
stools lay in ambush, and there were flaps at the end of 
the pews ready to put up in cases of emergency. The 
attendance at St James's I found was pretty nearly co- 
extensive with its capacities, and numbered something 
like fifteen hundred. Some men cannot be hid, and Mr 
Haweis is evidently one of them. It was some time 
before I got a seat, and as the chapel was not nearly 
full during the service, I formed uncharitable opinions 
as to the venality of the pew-opener, which I found from 
subsequent explanations were decidedly wrong, as so 
many of our hasty judgments often are. 

If the exterior of the chapel- was ugly, the inside tried 


to make amends by being slightly over-decorated. It 
was a hopeless task. It was like a plain old lady getting 
herself up with the 'latest additions and improvements;-' 
but it was no use. St James's, inside as well as outside, 
was irremediably ugly. What paint could do had been 
done to brighten- up the edifice. The east end there 
is no symptom of a chancel was oak- stalled, floored 
with the conventional Minton's tiles, and adorned with 
cushions evidently worked by the fair fingers of ladies 
of the congregation, for there are, in these strong- 
minded times, Broad Church ladies as well as clergymen 
and gentlemen. The Communion Table was richly 
draped, though small ; and on a super-altar were the 
unexpected adjuncts of jewelled gilt cross, four vases 
for flowers, and two large red tapers. The east window 
was filled with Munich glass, and represented the 
Transfiguration, the legends f When He shall appear 
we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is ! ' 
and, ' He was transfigured before them ' running above 
and below. The rest of the windows in the chapel, or 
at least the greater portion of them, though of the 
ordinary court of justice or Little Bethel type, were 
filled with English stained glass. The figures were 
unorthodox, because they looked human, and the 
legends were legible; but there was evidently an 
aesthetic element in St James's for which I was not 
prepared. It put me in mind all along of an old Roman 
basilica Christianized under difficulties. A surpliced 
choir of eight men and twelve boys entered at eleven 
o'clock, with Mr Haweis and an Assistant Minister, 
who was bearded as became a Broad Churchman. After 
a preliminary hymn, this latter gentleman commenced 
Morning Prayer in what might, by some stretch of 
imagination, be termed a monotone; though I could 
not quite discover to the end whether, as far as the 
clergyman was concerned, the service was meant to be 
choral or not. I fancy not. The responses were sung 
and accompanied. Mr Haweis is a musician, and there 
were evident signs of the fact in the details of the service. 
The Te Deum and Nicene Creed were very simple and 


effective; the anthem, a bass solo and chorus, was 
Nares's ( Rejoice in the Lord.' 

The service proceeded straight to the end of Morn- 
ing Prayer, which was over at 11.45 ; and then there 
was a pause, during which the bell was rung and the 
organist played the slow movement from one of Weber's 
sonatas. Then I saw why the jaunty pew-openers left 
so many seats untenanted. A large moiety of the 
congregation came ' to hear Mr Haweis/ and did not 
arrive until noon, when Communion Service was com- 
menced by that gentleman himself. After the Nicene 
Creed there was another pause, while the preacher 
went to the vestry. He returned anon/ having ex- 
changed his surplice and hood for academic gown, and 
entered the pulpit, in which, by the way, is no ap- 
paratus for a MS. I was exercised to think what the 
Archbishop of Canterbury did, who was one of the 
select preachers at this church last year, or what any- 
body did who did not happen to be a fluent extempore 
preacher like Mr Haweis. The thought recalled to my 
inind an incident which occurred in this chapel on the 
occasion of my only previous visit. Dean Stanley was 
preaching, and the rostrum was then a venerable velvet- 
cushioned three-decker, instead of the elegant open 
pulpit of to-day. The Dean had three or four MSS., 
evidently venerable as the pulpit itself, besides the 
one he was using. He put these aside on the treacher- 
ous velvet cushion, having probably selected the one 
most appropriate to his congregation. By and by, in 
obedience to the laws of gravitation, the MSS. went 
flying down on the devoted head of an old lady in a 
little pew -box below, as I had seen for full five minutes 
they must inevitably do. This was bad ; but a liveried 
Bumble made matters worse by coming from the very 
bottom of the chapel, carefully collecting the disjecta 
membra from the old lady's box, and taking them up 
the pulpit stairs to the Dean. I shall never forget the 
look with which that dignitary regarded the officious 
Bumble as he cast the unfortunate MSS. on the pulpit 
floor, and proceeded with his discourse. 


Mr Haweis, according to what I found to be his 
frequent custom, took no text. He selected for his 
subject the wreck of the Northfleet, which had occurred 
during the previous week, and plunged at once in 
medias res. 

He often wondered, he said, why people thought 
so much of going to church, where prayers were too 
frequently formal, and sermons had no bearing on 
every-day life. It seemed as though religion were a 
Sunday matter, and irreligion belonged to the rest of 
the week. Surely Sunday studies prepare us 
to look with calm eyes on the trials of life. When any 
great calamity has happened during the week, he said, 
I always consider what people think about it when 
they read of it. Are they perplexed at it ? In the 
great calamity of last week, I thought, Now here is 
a case of difficulty. People might say, There, I told 
you so ! There is no God who cares for man. He 
sees people smashed in railway trains. He lets great 
speculations fail and ruin good and bad alike. He sees 
unmoved ' from His cold hard sky ' the great ship go 
down in the hungry sea. It is at times hard to realize 
a God of Love ! 

Worldly people are constantly perplexed by this ; 
but ' religious ' people find no difficulty 'here or any- 
where. They have a cut-and-dried theology to account 
for it all. If you don't believe it, they say it is because 
you are not ' regenerate/ To account for such a calamity 
as this, they take up the Bible and quote a text, and 
then they feel comforted. Is it not written, ' My 
thoughts are not as your thoughts, nor My ways as 
your ways ! ' God, they say, is different from man. 
These things would be cruel in man, but they are the 
essence of love in God. Have nothing to do, said the 
preacher, with explanations of this kind. If goodness, 
and love mean one thing on earth and another in 
Heaven, then better leave off talking about them alto- 
gether. Love in Heaven may be greater than on earth, 
but it must be the same in. kind. The ]anguage of 
Heaven and earth do not conflict. If they do, have 


done with theology, and confess that we know nothing; 
but don't, in God's name, let us cheat ourselves with 
words. Remember the context of the passage just 
quoted, ' My ways are higher than your ways, and 
My thoughts than your thoughts/ God's love is only 
greater than man's. Then how can God look down 
calmly on sufferings which He might obviate ? To 
justify God's ways to my own heart I fall back on the 
element of mystery which we find in the world. Make 
up your mind to two things : first, that there is over- 
powering evidence to prove God a God of Love. There 
may be difficulties in realizing this, because you are 
short-sighted. You have not all the facts before you. 
We work in a narrow circle on account of the limita- 
tions of our own minds. We don't understand what is 
going on under our own noses. Let me give a homely 
illustration of how differently things look when we 
have all the facts. I accept the proposition ' fire burns 
wood/ but I bring wood to fire and it is not burnt. 
The wood was wet, but I didn't know it. I was argu- 
ing on insufficient premisses. It was a mystery to me 
that the wood did not burn. Tell me it is wet, and all 
becomes clear. So it is we are continuously meeting 
with little bits of facts in the world. We know ' in 

There are analogies in plenty to tell me God is a 
God of Love. God is a Father, and we are His 
children. That is the best way of expressing our re- 
lation to God. Now the child cannot see the wisdom 
of a parent's severity. So, again, the decision of a 
judge seems cruel to the family of a man sent to prison. 
The man was justly condemned; but ask the man's 
wife whether she thinks it just. If one ignorant of 
surgery saw a surgeon cutting and hacking away at 
a patient who was already weak and ill he might think 
the surgeon cruel. If he had all the facts before him 
he would see that the surgeon was acting wisely and 
kindly. If you had been present at that fearful ship- 
wreck and seen the captain fire among a boatful of 
poor wretches who were only trying to save their lives, 


you might have said the man was a brute. Not so, 
when you are in possession of all the facts. He was 
devoting his life for his fellow-creatures, ready to go 
down in that devoted ship, and so to inscribe his name 
on the roll of England's heroes. If we had not known 
all the facts his conduct would have seemed cruel. So, 
too, many things which seem pitiless on God's part 
may, from a higher standpoint, be consistent with 
God's love. 

But still, when all is said, there rises before us the 
scene of that sfcern crowded with living beings, by 
the light of the last rocket, and ready to disappear 
beneath the waters, and you say, ' How can it be ? 
was there no help from above in such a terrible 
scene ? ' You are surrounded with worse misery than 
that. Pain, death, and suffering are all around you. 
These, however, are usual ; but when sufferings come 
dramatically, and are, as it were, brought to a focus, 
then you are startled and question God's love. The 
sufferings in that ship were less than in one London 
district or street any single night. Take it at the 
worst, there were forty minutes of suffering. Those 
who suffered more than that were sailors. Compare 
that with an attack of rheumatic fever, or the weeks 
of exhaustion in a case of consumption. The mental 
anxiety was great ; but the physical pain lasted only 
a few minutes. 

This does not clear up the mystery, I know; but 
it tells us we ought to check our imagination by our 
reason. When we are led up to a great catastrophe, 
we should say, ' This is only a concentration of what 
is continually going on around me ; and in the midst 
of it, I still feel God cares for me.' 

' What's death ? ' he proceeded to ask, colloquially 
as I have printed it. It is something to make Chris- 
tians shiver with terror ; but among heathens it w'as a 
good minister or angel sent to free men from troubles. 
There is in health and strength a natural shrinking 
from death. In sickness men become acclimatized to 
thoughts of death. This shrinking on the part of the 


! young and healthy is greatly produced by the force of 
contrast. Why is it that the Christian fears death ? 
Because he has had preached to him a gospel of Damn- 
ation, instead of a gospel of Salvation. He has had 
preached to him a God who, after threescore and ten 
years, plunges people into an imaginary Heaven or 
Hell, for each of which they are equally unfitted. So 
we may say that, 'by all the laws of dogmatic theology, 
a great many people are going to be burnt in the 
fires of an All- Merciful God, and if we escape, it will 
be ' by the skin of our teeth/ 

We grasp with difficulty the fact that God's judg- 
ments are going on now. God does not punish man ; 
man punishes himself. Man, however, is not going 
to be let off! ' Whatsoever a man soweth, that 
shall he also reap/ The fire that is not quenched 
will be within him. The drunkard and the volup- 
tuary reap their rewards here. So does the dishonest 
man when he is cut off from society, and so too shall 
it be in the next world. The thought that we are in 
the hands, not only of a good, but also of a ' philo- 
sophic'' God, should reconcile us to the idea of 
death. It is only a change from room to room. It is 
only the mounting another step in the ladder. Only 
the removal of life from one fit stage to another fit 

What reck I, he concluded, if this be slow or 
sudden ? In any case I go to Him who made me. 
And, looking at this catastrophe, you have no right 
to say, ' My God, why hast Thou forsaken them ? ' 
unless you are ready to look up into the Face of the 
Father, and say, ' Father, unto Thy Hands I commend 
their spirits ! ' 

Such will probably be confessed on all hands a some- 
what exceptional sermon to be preached within the 
walls of a church of the Establishment. It was de- 
livered extempore, and with such rapidity as almost 
to puzzle a shorthand writer to report verbatim. 
But Mr Haweis is thus exceptional, both in his preach- 
ing and his theology. The following are two of his 


utterances in a sermon,, entitled, ' Worship and 
Praise : 3 

' Supposing the Athanasian Creed damns the greater 
part of the human race, as we are told it does, why, so 
much the worse for the Athanasian Creed. It cannot 
do the world any harm. The laity have seen that all 
along, and have said it in thousands of ways. In' the 
first place no one knows who wrote it, or what its precise 
ecclesiastical authority is ; they don't even seem to 
know what it means : but if its assertions are as 
monstrous as they are generally understood to be, any 
man with common sense would give it up, and say that 
if the Athanasian Creed has damned the world, Christ 
has redeemed the world, and there is an end of it/ 

' People make a great deal of fuss about the ex- 
travagant luxury of the present age. God knows, there 
is plenty of selfishness, and where luxury is the out- 
come of selfishness, it is damnable and bad, and has the 
mark of Cain on its voluptuous brow. But why, I ask, 
are our people selfish and luxuriant ? Why are the 
pursuits and pleasures of the world curses ? Why is 
poetry immoral ? Why is the theatre or opera-house, 
to a great extent, still unpurified ? Why are all these 
things, I say ? I will tell you why. It is because the 
Church has turned its back upon them. As far as the 
Church is concerned, that is the reason. The Church 
has cast out of secular life the aesthetic instincts which 
it has not crushed, which it never will crush. The 
Church has gone round to every place of amusement 
which was a little unclean, and cried out " Unclean ! 
unclean ! " until the hard and fast line between good 
and evil has been drawn, and the bad has become worse 
without the good becoming any better ! If you, in the 
name of religion, neglect the great human perceptions 
intended to refine, to elevate, and re-create society, 
that neglect will bring degradation along with it ; for 
it will bring the most fatal of all kinds of corruption 
the perversion and abuse of naturally wholesome in- 

On the unpopular subject of ' Modern Spiritualism ' 


( which, rightly or wrongly, claims Mr Haweis as at 
least a partial convert) he has thus delivered himself 
in a volume of sermons called, ' Thoughts for the 
Times/ which, unlike the general run of those com- 
positions, went through three editions in a short space 

of time. 

' In some circles, the very rumour that spiritualism 
is to be scientifically investigated raises a hoot of in- 
dignation throughout vast Philistine communities, who 
pride themselves on common sense. Yet there has 
never been an age this age least of any when we 
have not heard a great deal about the supernatural 
when things have not happened which nobody could 
explain; nor can it be maintained that the sort of 
explanations which the scientific world has offered us 
are at all adequate to account for the phenomena of 
spiritualism. The explanations which have been put 
forward sufficiently prove the amount of imposture that 
is associated with the word " spiritualist ; }} but then we 
knew all that before. We wanted the scientific men to 
explain the residuum which puzzles most people who 
have paid any attention to the subject, but they prefer 
to discourse beside the mark to people who are already 
satisfied that the whole thing is imposture. We will 
not say "They are all dumb dogs ; they -cannot bark; " 
they are rather like shy horses they refuse to approach 
the hand that is stretched out to them, for fear of being 

' I am propounding no theory about spiritualism. I 
hardly know what it means, or why it is called spiritual- 
ism. I merely affirm that occurrences which cannot be 
confounded with conjuring tricks seeing that conjurers 
and men of science are alike challenged to -investigate 
them seem to me to occur, and they certainly seem to 
me still to await some adequate explanation. I will 
commit myself to no theory. I have none. I merely 
aspire to be honest enough to admit what I believe 
that a class of phenomena are daily occurring in our 
midst which have not been explained and perhaps I 
maybe allowed to indulge in the vague hope that many 


hundreds of thousands who are so far of rny opinion 
throughout the civilized world, are neither born fools 
nor confirmed lunatics, although I regret to say that 
some who are believers are impostors as well. But 
whatever truth or untruth there may be in these opin- 
ions, one thing is tolerably evident to my mind, and it is 
this that if you accept the Christian miracles, you 
cannot reject all others/ 

Mr Haweis is also author of the well-known work 
c Music and Morals ; ' is himself an amateur violinist 
of no mean celebrity, musical critic on at least one 
journal, and mirabile dictu ! writer also of a pretty 
little tract called ' Amy Arnold, a Sketch from Life,' 
which is not on the Anglican Index Expurgatorius, 
if such exists, but on the list of the Society for Pro- 
moting Christian Knowledge. Altogether, Mr Haweis 
is a very exceptional ' parson ' indeed. 

"Without merging in that criticism which we have 
forsworn., it may be said that it is in a manner the 
speciality of Mr Haweis to combine with the utmost 
breadth of doctrine those aesthetic elements which were 
for a long time without any assignable reason held 
to be incompatible therewith. Evangelical opinions, 
and anything like Ritualism, we can easily understand 
to be incongruous ; though even Evangelicism and Non- 
conformity are, coyly and shyly so far, ' going in ' for 
modest beauty in this respect. But with an eclectic 
system like the Broad Church, there seems no sort of 
reason why beauty of ritual should be ignored. It is 
not at St James's, Marylebone ; and it is precisely this 
combination of breadth with beauty that constitutes the 
claim of Mr Haweis to be the representative man we 
have made him. 



B one effort which I shall keep steadily before me 
in these peripatetic papers is to be appreciative ; to 
keep clear of the vulgar error which can discern no 
excellence beyond its own particular clique or coterie. 
True, my mission is to be descriptive,, and not critical ; 
but we all know that there are two ways of looking at 
a thing. One method is to regard all with a jaundiced 
eye that does not square with one's own prejudices ; the 
other is to look at all, however uncongenial it may at 
first sight appear, with a calm and philosophic gaze ; and 
I feel I should be acting unworthily if I did not resolve 
to be as eclectic that is, in the best and truest sense, as 
Catholic as possible. True, I commenced my studies 
with a typical Broad Churchman. There seemed a 
natural fitness of things in doing so. Now.I go to quite 
another extreme, and select a representative man of the 
advanced Ritualistic school. 

But then, again, the peculiar character of the mission 
I have proposed to myself prevents me from selecting 
those individuals, at all events in the first instance, 
whose names are usually associated with the different 
bodies I describe. . I take rather exceptional than 
representative men perhaps. I might have taken 
Dean Stanley for my Broad Church portrait, and Mr 
Mackonochie for my Ritualist. I do not; first, because 
I want to open up new ground; secondly, because in 
some cases the fact of a man being the recognized head 
of a movement or a party gets him into a groove or 
rut, which is fatal to originality. The monstrari digito 
prcetereuntium often has a paralyzing effect on such a 
man's powers. It stereotypes him to the Shibboleths of 
his party. Such men are not to my purpose ; at all 
events, not yet. 


The admirers of Mr Stanton, or ' Father ' Stanton as 
they delight to call him and their name is legion will 
think I am dwarfing his dimensions if I seem thus at all 
to concede the point that he is not a typical man ; not 
so Mr Stanton himself. He quite ridiculed the idea of 
being put forward, and almost refused information about 
himself, though in the most courteous and genial manner: 
so that all I can give will be a sort of pen-and-ink 
portrait of one whose influence extends much more 
widely than is suspected, even by himself. 

Father Stanton, then, differs about as widely from the 
ordinary run of ' High Church ' curate as is possible. 
We are accustomed to think of such as a rather limp 
individual ; ' tender-eyed ' as Leah, and with a falsetto 
voice perpetually monotoning on Gr. He is strongly 
ascetic and severe against ' all the pomps and vanities 
of this wicked world/ Not so this young ' priest/ As 
one of the assistants at St Alban's, Holborn, he is, of 
course, a pronounced and advanced Ritualist. But he 
is credite posteri I a member of the Liberation Society ! 
His bugbear is Establishment. ' Mention Church and 
State to me/ he says, ' and it is like shaking a red cloth 
before a mad bull/ Some time ago, all the Mrs Grundys 
of the country were attacking him, and a good many 
male, or, at all events, clerical Grundys, too, because, 
when he established the St Alban's Club for working 
men, he allowed spirits and beer to be sold there, and 
did not prohibit the use of cards. ' I like my rubber of 
whist and night-cap ; why shouldn't they ? ' he asked. 
( As long as they don-'t get drunk or gamble, where is 
the harm in a glass of grog or a game at cards ? J 

Father Stanton, then, it will be perceived, thinks for 
himself, and dares to act as he thinks. He does not run 
in a groove. He presents the apparent anomaly of an 
excessively High Churchman, strongly seasoned with 

This peculiarity gives, of course, a tinge to his ministry. 
He is demonstrative almost to the limits of rant in his 
preaching, and in other respects has a supreme disregard 
of little clerical convenances. He has organized the 


watch-night service at St Alban's on the eve of the 
New Year, which is like a. ritualistic Methodist meeting 
more than anything else. The first time I heard him 
preach several years ago I could not help thinking of 
Sydney Smith's imprecation on a bishop who had 
offended him. He wished he might be ' preached to 
death by wild curates/ and Father Stanton appeared to 
me the very curate to have cast .the first stone. It was 
on Grood Friday a day of all others when there is least 
to rave about; but there was method in the madness. 
He has toned down since that, though without losing 
his peculiar characteristics. 

If one may venture to speak of the personnel of one's 
portrait, there are in Father Stanton' s outward man 
many elements of the pet curate. He is youthful in 
appearance, with dark, almost olive complexion, and jet 
black curling hair not shaven and shorn, after the 
manner of the ordinary Ritualist; and, softly be it 
spoken, pretty devouees do like to carry Father Stanton' s 
photo about with them ; but Father Stanton is the very 
reverse of a ladies' man. With all his physical capa- 
cities for such a role, he is infinitely above its little- 
nesses, and is every inch ' a priest/ 

The morning I chose for my expedition to St Alban's 
was the unpropitious one of the 2nd of February, the 
Feast of the Purification, when the first snow of 1873 
fell, and winter virtually commenced. I had ascertained 
that Father Stanton was to preach ' at mid-day mass ; ' 
and so, though omnibuses had struck and cabs retired 
into private life,, I struggled along against a biting east 
wind and blinding snow, eventually reaching Brook 
Street, where St Alban's is situated, when ' Matins,' 
which immediately precede 'High Mass,' were only 
about half over. Mr Mackonochie was intoning on a 
wildly wrong note, and the choir sang a hymn on the 
Purification to a distressing Gregorian tone as I entered. 
There was a fair congregation, far larger than one would 
have expected from the nature of the weather, which 
'was calculated to act as a decided damper on any aesthetic 
proclivities one might have had. I scarcely think I 



should have struggled to St Alban's save for a special 

The altar was vested in white, and there was just a 
suupcon of the smell of incense about the church, but 
no signs that Ormdlemas was to be made a high festival 
of. In fact, Ritualism seems to have dropped out of 
its philosophy much of the 'Mariolatry' that was sus- 
pected in its rudimentary form of Tractarianism. When 
morning prayers were over, two persons in surplices 
advanced and censed the altar, leaving their censers, I 
believe, in a side chapel, so as to keep up the fragrance, 
for I could see clouds rising a quarter of an hour after 
the operation was over ; but the result was eminently 
satisfactory. An introitwas sung, and then the procession 
of acolytes, celebrant, epistoler, and gospeler entered 
the chancel, preceded by a large cross borne aloft. 
Father Stanton, habited only in surplice, hood, and 
small white stole, passed to the clergy stalls, while the 
rest went to the altar. The celebrant had a huge gold 
cross on the back of his cope, and the acolytes were 
gorgeous in scarlet cassocks and white surplices. Mr 
Mackonochie himself occupied the humble position, of 
epistoler. The celebrant intoned the Commandments in 
so low a voice as to be scarcely audible ; but what I do not 
mean to call offensively the mise-en-scene of the ' Mass } 
was magnificent j and the effect of all the congregation 
kneeling, when the incarnation was asserted in the 
Nicene Creed to deep and solemn chords of accompani- 
ment, was solemn in the extreme. The sign of the 
Cross was devoutly made when ' the Life of the World 
to come'' was mentioned; and so, at the close of the 
Creed, Father Stanton mounted the pulpit. His hood 
was fearfully and wonderfully put on ; and the effect of 
his dark fine-cut face against the deep crimson silk was 
very monastic indeed. But the sermon soon removed 
all impressions of the kind. He prefaced his discourse 
with the publication of banns, prayers for the sick, and 
also ' prayers for the repose of the soul ' of one departed. 
Then he gave out his text, which was from Mai. iii., 
part of the Scripture appointed for the Epistle of the 


Festival ' The Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come 
to His Temple/ He dwelt on the peculiar character of 
the Festival under its double aspect of the Purification 
of ' our Blessed Lady/ and the Presentation of. our 
Lord in the Temple. It was, he said, like a last look 
at Christmas, over which was beginning to be cast the 
dark shadow of the Passion. The curtain was lifted 
for one moment, and the spectacle showed us the power 
of Christian heroism. We saw ' our sweet and blessed 
Lady ' carrying in her arms her Divine Son. It was, 
as he had said, a last lingering glance at Christmas, 
and a spectacle dear to every Catholic heart that 
Mother with that Child at her breast. To-day she is 
passing, with St Joseph, the foster-father, through the 
streets of Jerusalem. There are the dark shadows of 
the houses, and the glare of the eastern sunshine, and the 
passers-by going to and fro. How often has she come 
before to the same place. Now, though a mother, she 
is ' spotless as .the driven snow.' Father Stanton 
cleverly pressed this image into his service. What 
thoughts must have been in her .mind as she held in 
her arms her Son, the Everlasting God, the Prince of 
Peace ! Yes, she bore the Eternal Grod, as she ascended 
those steps. 

In the Temple, how simple was the scene ! An old 
man takes the Child, and a thrill of joy passes through 
his heart. He had waited for the consolation of Israel. 
He speaks a few words ; and then a woman stricken in 
years comes in. She utters her prophecy. She re- 
cognizes the Lord of lords in the Child. The offering- 
is made, the purification is over, and they leave. Night 
closes, and the Temple doors are shut. . The Lord had 
suddenly come to His Temple. He whom, they yearned 
for had come. Heaven and earth had met together : 
God and man had met. The glory of the latter House 
had exceeded that of the former. The latter outshone 
its predecessor. The glory of the Temples had come. 
Only two persons recognized it. It had come and 

The great thought of this festival is the superhuman 


manifestation of God to those who watch for Him. He 
was not recognized by the scribe who knew the law, 
by the Sanhedrim, the rulers, the learned, or the mighty. 
Two old people who had long been waiting were the 
only ones who knew Him. That Babe who was set for 
the fall and rising again of many in Israel is the same 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Those who saw Him 
were ' full of the Holy Ghost/ To them it was revealed 
that they should see the Lord's Christ ; and a light 
greater than that of the sun came to their hearts. 
That old man saw what the wise could not see. He 
took up the Lord of life in his arms ; and he felt that 
now he could depart in peace, for he had seen the Lord's 

Dear friends, he said, this realization of Jesus Christ 
is far beyond all learning, art, or science. There is 
given to those who seek it, a light above that of the 
sun. Christ communicates Himself in His Divine 
Personality as well as Essence. Religion is unsatis- 
factory unless we can thus have personal intimacy with 
Christ. If we have . but heard of Him through men 
and books, He only exerts a secondary power on us. 
Our conception of Him merely amounts to a moral 
certainty, as with any other great hero we read of in 
history. We have seen Him only through the shadow 
of ideas. We have not taken Him in our arms and 
gazed on Him with ineffable joy. 

There is, you know it well, a special light, transcend- 
ent and transluminous. The converted man will say, 

V ? 

1 1 have read, and heard, and argued laboriously about 
Christ, but some day there came to me, at the corner of 
the street, or at my own fireside, or during some sermon, 
a mystic certainty about Him. The scales dropped 
from my eyes. I saw my Lord as I had never seen 
Him before. I felt the power of salvation. I went 
back again to my books, and, as I read the old pages, 
a new light flashed upon me. New arguments came 
which I had never seen before ; and Faith got from that 
mystic light confirmed them. I never can deny this; 
for to do so would be to deny the secret of my life/ 


ISTo one can say that Jesus is the Christ but by the 
Holy Ghost. You may say you think so; the Child 
might be Grod. But to see it with the light of the 
superhuman day is another thing. Far different to 
know that the Lord whom you have looked for has 
suddenly come to His Temple. Then you can say 

' Oh. ! my sweet Jesus, come to me, 

My longing heart's desire ; 
"With- tears of love I've wept for Thee, 

Thee doth my soul require. 

' A thousand times IV a yearned for Thee ; 

Jesu ! when wilt thou come ? 
When will Thy presence gladden me, 
And make in me a Home ? ' 

If the Revelation of Christ is not so, if it depends 
on knowledge or reading, where is the Sacred Demo- 
cracy of the Faith ? It would be an oligarchy of genius. 
How could the little child make the sign of the Cross ? 
How could the poor man be lifted up from the dunghill ? 
Jesus Christ Himself seemed to burst into enthusiasm 
when He thought of this, saying : ( I thank Thee, 
Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth, that Thou hast 
hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed 
them unto babes/ 

Of course, the great question is, Have all these people 
conscious communion with Grod; this mystic knowledge 
of things about which we hear so much and see so little ? 
Yes. Wherever God has created life, He has given 
certain powers, going out beyond the organism of the 
life itself. Plants have powers which seem to trench on 
animalism. The vine throws out its tendrils for support, 
and roots pierce down to a congenial soil. Animals 
show powers which seem beyond instinct. We speak 
of the sagacity of the dog and the cunning of the fox. 
So in the higher life of man, there are strange instincts. 
There are impressions we cannot account for ; there are 
moments when we seem to stand out beyond ourselves. 
We feel intelligence within us we cannot explain, such 
as prognostications and presentiments. 

When Grod makes His faithful ones partakers of 


Himself, He gives them a certainty far greater than 
that which is arrived at by logic and science. We can 
see this in the lives of the Saints, in the annals of the 
Church. People lead lives of extraordinary faith, which 
neither they nor you can account for. ' By the Grace 
of God I am what I am/ is all they can say. 

But, you will still ask, Is it likely I shall ever feel 
like this ? I have heard of conscious conversion and 
intercourse with God, but it seems far above my head. 
I never felt it, though I have practised religion for 
years. I cannot put my hand on a particular day of my 
life, and say, ' On that day I became converted/ How 
is it I cannot do as others ? Do not be distressed. Go 
on waiting for the consolation of Israel. Do you not 
see that they in the Temple had been doing so ? That 
old man had been promised that he should see the Lord^s 
Christ. He waited patiently, c full of the Holy Ghost/ 
and at last the Lord suddenly came to His Temple. He 
did depart in peace. 

So, too, that old woman; she had 'long fasted and 
prayed. Day and night, Scripture says, she had waited 
for the consolation. It had not come, but day after day, 
and night after night, she still went on still fasted and 
prayed. ' In eternity time struck the hour/ and Jesus 
Christ came. She had not waited in vain ; and hence- 
forth she could talk of nothing else to those others 
who were waiting- too. And have you not felt this ? 
You groan and pray to see God : to press Him to your 
heart and feel Him yours. You want to grasp ' what 
lies behind all your Prayers, Communions, and Confes- 
sions/ You want religion to be a personal affection for 
Christ, something you can never let go. It shall come 
to you : when or how I cannot tell ; but it shall come. 
Perhaps it may be at the end of your life, when the 
shadows of this world pass away, and the morning 
breaks over the everlasting hills. You shall see the 
King in His beauty, whom you had tried to follow at 
such a distance off. Then will you say, ' God, Thou 
art my God. Jesus Christ, Thou didst come to earth for 
me/ And you will be able to add, f Lord, now lettest 


thou Thy servant depart in peace - 3 for mine eyes have 
seen Thy salvation ! ' 

A translation of the hymn. ' quam glorifica ' followed, 
and the usual choral communion or f mass' was pro- 
ceeded with. During Communion, Keble's exquisite 
hynin 'Ave Maria ' was sung to music, consisting of a 
tenor solo, with chorus of the words ' Ave Maria ' only. 
Very few persons communicated. 

The cultus of St Alban's has been too often described 
to need reiteration here. It was bright with colours, 
odours, flowers, and music. According to the theory of 
the Ritualist, these were, of course, no foreign adjuncts 
supervening on the English system, but simply what 
the English ritual was and would have been had the 
Reformation never run riot into Puritanism. When 
the great bell of the church boomed out among the 
snow-clouds at the moment of Consecration, a Broad 
Churchman might not be able to realize the fact in its 
intensity ; but to those who knelt, or rather prostrated 
themselves there, the Sacramental act was a great fact. 

When I ' interviewed ' Father Stanton in his any- 
thing but monastic room in the clergy house, he said, 
' The only two points in which we have made con- 
cessions are, that we do not light the candles or burn 
incense during celebration. All else is as before/ 
The great influence at St Alban's is, he says, in the 
Confessional; and that influence he attributes to the 
fact that confessions are made openly in church, not in 
the vestry with closed doors. 

As an instance of the geniality which overlies the 
whole system at St Alban's, he told me, after de- 
scribing the numerous guilds, sisterhoods, creche, 
orphanage, &c., that at the Mothers' Meeting a titled 
lady once came in and said ' I suppose, Father 
Stanton, you read these women a chapter in the Bible 
while they are at work ? ' ' Not so/ he said ; ' I am at 
present reading " Nicholas Nickleby," and have just 
finished ( ' Adam Bede." ' ' Then you begin, at least, 
with the Collect for the week.' ' As that Collect 
happened to be "Blessed Lord, who hast caused all 


Holy Scriptures to be written for our learning," &c., ' ' 

I did not think it quite appropriate to " Nicholas 
Nickleby/' ' he said. 

And the congregation who listened to the earnest 
words of this young preacher are not, be it under- 
stood, boys and girls. There were grizzled men, and 
young men in plenty. The women were in excess 
that snowy morning, it is true ; but the congregation 
was more evenly balanced than in most London churches, 
and the poor were decidedly in the ascendant, and 
fully on a par with the rich. One very aged sister in 
ecclesiastical dress particularly attracted my attention 
by the way in which she hung on the words of the 
preacher and followed the beautiful music. Her face 
might have been that of a Mater Dolorosa or St Anna. 
It had a history in itself. 

Father Stanton, young as he is, combines, in a very 
singular degree, the opposite elements of Ritualism 
and popularity, too often antagonistic, but why ? His 
sermon mig'ht have, with few alterations, been preached 
in a Conventicle. Preached in the ultra-ritualistic 
Church of St Alban's, Holborn, it was a very ex- ; 
ceptional one indeed ; and, though not promising, 
from its subject, to be a distinctive one, proved, per- 
haps, as fair an example as I could have met with of 
the apparently incongruous personage the Democratic 


T10 an anxious inquirer bent on an excursion into 
regions Evangelical, it might seem that Clap ham or 
Islington would afford unbounded attractions, since 
it is in these that the so-called ' Low- Church party 7 
traditionally 'most do congregate/ But, rightly or 


wrongly, I liave determined in these ecclesiastical 
rambles to wander a little out of the beaten paths. 
Just as I avoid men whose names proverbially head 
the different schools of thought, so also do I eschew 
localities consecrated to special sects, and try, as far 
as possible, to break up new ground. Thus was it 
that, avoiding both north and south, I turned due west 
for my typical Evangelical. 

For in western London, as the focus of metropolitan 
civilization, just as in Alexandria of old, where the 
schools of philosophers jostled the Christian churches, 
every shade and colour of religious belief may be found. 
Around the beautiful Pro -Cathedral at Kensington a 
Catholic population has sprung up just as around the 
cathedral-close in ancient times. Eitualists in every 
stage of advancement throng the frequent services and 
swell the teeming coffers of St Mary Magdalene's, 
Paddington. The synagogue and the kirk stand wall 
to wall in the Harrow-road, and the New Jerusalem 
Church has stationed its apostle, Dr Bayley, almost 
under the shadow of the Vicarage-elms in the old Court 
suburb. It is, of course, only with the Establishment 
that I am at present concerned; but our National 
Church is represented in its every phase. From the 
beautiful Kensington Parish Church lately raised out 
of the ashes of its ugly and venerable predecessor, as 
from a centre, one might exhaust the theological ther- 
mometer, ranging from fever-heat at St Matthias, 
Earl's Court, to zero at St Matthew's, Bayswater, 
where Archdeacon Hunter elects to 'blush unseen/ 
1 had half resolved to make him my representative man 
of Evangelicalism pur et simple, but the Archdeacon 
begged so hard not to be ' done ' that I had, in mercy, 
to let him off and seek another type among the fertile 
pastures in this land of the West. The fact was that 
since his return from his twenty years' work in Rupert's 
Land, the Archdeacon had thought fit to retain ' the 
archidiacoual title' even when not discharging ' arch- 
deaconal functions.' At this the penny local papers 
were wroth, and discharged upon the Archdeacon the 


vials of their anger, and quieta non movere became the 
Archdeacon' s policy forthwith. 

The world was all before me where to choose ; and, 
though limited now to a single department of religious 
thought, I absolutely suffered from an embarras de 
richesses. Should I seek the shrine of the Rev. Daniel 
Moore at Holy Trinity, Paddington ? No, I would 
reserve him for the Golden Lecture. Messrs Moor- 
house and ^Emilius Bailey presented strong attractions, 
but these were still too much men of the old school; 
men like Daniel Wilson, of Islington, whose very name 
has an Evangelical smack about it. I would none of 
these. I wanted a man who should represent the 
Evangelicalism of the hour, not the cMltus of my great- 
grandmamma ; who should be to his system what Mr 
Haweis and Mr Stanton were to the old conservative 
Broad Church and to ordinary Ritualism respectively. 
Such a man, I was given to understand, was the Rev. 
R. W. Forrest, late chaplain at that nursery of evan- 
gelical orators, the Lock Hospital, and now vicar of 
St Jude's, South Kensington. To South Kensington, 
accordingly, I went, via, the Metropolitan District 
Railway, near the Gloucester Road Station of which 
St Jude's is situated, being one of those handsome 
new structures locally termed the ' Ten- thousand- 
pounders/ from the traditional cost of their erection, 
which is very likely quite a false estimate. 

St Jude's lies upon the very outskirts of civilization, 
among the fast disappearing lanes and market gardens 
of a receding rusticity. Long reaches of green fields 
lie incongruously among streets, while here and there a 
veritable old farmhouse crops up, and Cockney lovers 
were gazing spoonily into the cabbage-gardens as I 
sped through the mud and snow on Septuagesirna Sun- 
day to church. Crowds of well-dressed worshippers 
were defiling through those lanes, disturbing Corydon 
and Phyllis in their conversation, and making Mr 
Forrest's advent a very death-blow to their billing and 
cooing. The church is a handsome Gothic one, well 
worth the somewhat heavy price alluded to above, which- 


is understood to be the cost of locating in the wealthy 
parish of Kensington. 

Neither outside nor inside did St Jude's bear the 
slightest resemblance to what used to be a Church of 
'the strictest sect - } } but then were not Nonconformists 
so far ( trimming ' as to come out with organs in their 
worship and crosses on every available point of vantage 
in their buildings ? St Jude's was so far only keeping 
pace with the times, or perhaps going ahead just one or 
two steps in advance. There certainly was not a trace 
of orthodox ugliness in its rather gorgeous altar, or 
' Communion Table/ as I suppose it would still be termed. 
It was surmounted with glaring Minton tiles, inlaid 
mosaic-wise, in the wall, and surmounted with an east 
window, whose grotesque figures and Dolly Yarden kind 
of costumes were all that the Ritualist would have 
desired. Within its enclosure were two highly aesthetic 
Glastonbury chairs, and a light airy kind of rail cut off 
the penetralia from the handsome oak-studded chancel. 
Here, again, all was as ' proper ' as possible. There was 
a low reading-desk and a not very high pulpit. There was 
a lectern with bookmarkers as wide and as gay as a 
ritualistic stole, and a graceful coloured corona hung 
suspended from the roof. Certainly it was never so seen 
in Islington or Clapham. I had almost forgotten to add 
that the very Palladium of old Evangelicalism the Ten 
Commandments had been conveniently disposed of by 
dwarfing them to the smallest possible dimensions, and 
setting them up in orthodox ecclesiastical hieroglyphics 
in a corner, where they obtruded as little as possible on 
the public gaze. The body of the church was seated 
with low pews for a vast congregation, and the galleries 
retired modestly into the aisles, as if protesting against 
the necessity of their presence. Most of all unlike the 
Evangelic arrangements of my boyhood, the pew-openers 
were not the mob-capped widows and spinsters I had 
remembered, but male attendants in white ties/bearded 
like Broad Churchmen, but smiling seraphically as they 
handed the initiated to their seats, or pointed a new 
comer and prospective ' renter ' to the advantages in 


point of pulpit range commanded by some well-placed 
pew. However, they were courteous and obliging, not 
waiting until after the second lesson before they gave 
one a seat, or lingering for a 'tip' when they had done 
so. There was a good deal of nodding and conversation 
among the congregation during the quarter of an hour 
whilst they were assembling; but then is it not pre- 
scribed in the horn-book which contains the legend of 
Tommy and Harry, that it is a necessity of etiquette to 
bow to one's friends on entering church ? The St Jude's 
people were punctilious in this respect. There was even 
a little giggling among the young ladies, and some skir- 
mishing about seats and hassocks among the old. The 
ladies were largely in excess, and the bulk of the 
congregation were of the upper middle class. It was 
scarcely what one would call a fashionable or intellectual 
congregation, but they were, to a spinster, devout 
' Forresters/ I could see that. 

At eleven o' clock a voluntary was played, and so ornate 
were the appendages of this Evangelic Church, that one 
would not have been at all surprised to see a surpliced 
choir stream in from the vestry. They came, however, 
a long file of men and boys in the ordinary garb of every- 
day life, and with a slow and measured step that re- 
minded one of a cheerful funeral. A curate followed, 
in ordinary surplice and hood, but with the now almost 
obsolete bands as big as a barrister's. Then came Mr 
Forrest in episcopal-looking surplice, with largely deve- 
loped Dublin M.A. hood, but still that badge of orthodoxy 
the Geneva bands, which always were, for some un- 
accountable reason, the mainstay of the Evangelical body, 
seeing they are among the most ' Catholic } of all 
possible appendages. 

The responses were given in a monotone, and of the 
chanting I can only say it was to my mind the perfection 
of Anglican antiphonal singing. I marvelled to hear 
that the Psalms were sung instead of being read as they 
used to be. Surely this is only a concession to common 
sense ; and I must repeat I never heard the florid 
Anglican chants so perfectly sung as at St Jude's, South 


Kensington. Mr Forrest read the lessons somewhat 
.pompously, and, like Mr Bellew, with a considerable 
difference. The canticles were sung to several chants, 
which made them almost as complicated as Cathedral 
1 services/ and the hymns were taken from the Hymnal 
Companion to the Book of Common Prayer,, compiled 
by the Rev E. II. Bickersteth, of Hampstead, a sort of 
compromise between Tate-and-Brady and Hymns 
Ancient and Modern, omitting, of course, the objection- 
able Catholic translations, and preserving most of the 
chef-d'oeuvres of the popular manual. 

The criterion of the state of feeling in St Jude's was 
evidently given in the recitation of the Apostles' Creed. 
It was sung on G by the choir, and of those gentlemen 
three out of seven on one side turned to the east, the 
other four remaining in statu quo ante, with a rigid look 
on their face as though they would die sooner than yield. 
A larger fraction bowed at the Sacred name. One could 
gauge the state of the theological temperature pretty 
clearly from this fact. St Jude's was Evangelical in 
point of doctrine perhaps, but ( a little high/ as is vul- 
garly said, in point of ritual. 

There was no Litany, but the final prayers of the 
morning service were read after the third collect, and 
the General Thanksgiving was recited full- voiced by 
the whole congregation, no longer on a single note, but 
with the natural intonation ; and I venture to think that 
full unmusical sound had more of the old Puritan ring 
in it than the elaborate service of which it formed an 
almost incongruous portion. I do not say I liked it 
better, or that it was the worthier expression of worship 
that is not mine to judge but it was certainly more 
' Evangelical/ 

The Communion Service was read by Mr Forrest, and 
I was still more reminded of Mr Bellew in his delivery 
of the Commandments. A musical kyrie was sung, but 
it was painfully slow, and then Mr Forrest passed to the 
pulpit, arrayed not in the academic gown of ancient 
times, which has ceased to be a symbol with any bat 
very lag-behind Evangelicals, but in surplice, hood, and 


stole, which lie had worn during the service. Prefacing 
his discourse with a simple collect, and after a brief 
announcement of an impendiug lecture, Mr Forrest gave 
out as his text a passage from Revelation xxi. 5 ' He 
that sat upon the throne said, " Behold, I make all things 
new ! " ' Now, an Evangelical sermon, though easy to 
transcribe verbatim, is difficult to analyze ; and bhis was 
especially the case with Mr Forrest's. There was great 
copia verliorum, but there were frequent repetitions and 
no very logical arrangement. It was, however, to the 
following purpose : The compilers of the new Lection- 
ary had, he said, an evident purpose for placing in 
juxtaposition on Septuagesima Sunday the opening of 
Genesis and the close of Revelation; the old and the 
new creation, and he proposed to draw out some point 
of resemblance between the original creation and the 
spiritual regeneration of man's soul. 

1. Both the old and the new creation were the pro- 
duction of a new order of things. The world before 
the Mosaic account of creation was said to have been 
void and dark. These opening chapters of Genesis had 
been made the subject of keen controversy, and some 
thought them in hopeless conflict to science. Even 
" professed believers " sometimes held it might be 
properly so that the Bible was a book for the masses, 
and that you must not expect in it scientific accuracy. 
Others, again, thought the Mosaic account of Creation 
and the Fall allegorical. But, be this as it might, the 
opening words of Genesis implied a previous ruin of the 
world, possibly by evil spirits. It had become dark 
and void when God uttered the fiat of Creation. 

The spiritual parallel was at hand. Before regenera- 
tion, like the world before ' creation/ the soul was 
without form and void, and darkness was upon the face 
of the deep. The peerless form of its Maker's image 
was lost. It was ' destitute of its pristine beauty, and 
the crown had fallen from its head into the dust/ (Mr 
Forrest garnished his long discourse with frequent 
flowers of speech like this to an extent it would be 
impossible to convey in a brief analysis.) The soul 


was void, Mike a liouse without furnitur.e/ The body, 
once a temple of the Holy Ghost, had become a cage 
of unclean birds, a haunt of satyrs and dragons. The 
house might be swept and made alluring to the eye, 
but there was still about it an appalling vacuity. 

But our view of Nature affected our acceptance of 
the Gospel. If we said, as many did, that sin was only 
a form of ignorance, we were blinded as to its nature, 
and were not able to value aright the intervention God 
found it ' imperatively necessary ' to make when His 
Son died. We must, he said, discard the idea that the 
seeds of good were in man requiring only education 
to foster. The work of the Holy Spirit was not the 
resuscitation of dying sparks, but the introduction of a 
new fire, a new life. 

2. There was a Divine Agent both in the old and new 
creation. Very sublime were those words : ' In the 
beginning God created the heavens and the earth/ 
None could tell when the beginning was : possibly 
hundreds of thousands of millions of years before ! But 
those words exposed the fallacy of erroneous systems, of 
Atheism, Polytheism, Pantheism, and Fatalism. So, 
too, was there a Divine Agent in the spiritual creation. 
Man, he said, had no inherent spiritual excellence. 
There was about as much truth in the idea as in the 
poetic fiction of ' forms of loveliness in unhewn stone/ 
Man cannot create. He can only combine. All is the 
work of the Spirit, who the old Hebrew says 
' brooded ' over chaos. We, as St Paul puts it, are his 
workmanship. We cannot take a step without the Holy 
Ghost; and yet every step we. take is our own, in holi- 
ness even more than in acts of sin. As spring tlowers 
will soon be drawn out of the earth by the sun, so are 
our souls by the love of God. Oh! (It is impossible to 
convey by any spacing the length of this ever-recurring 
interjection.) Oh ! stupendous miracle of love. In the 
creation, God only spoke, and it was done ; but when 
He made the new creation, He f must needs ' come 
down, take flesh and blood, and die. The Third Person 
of the Trinity, too, ' must ' descend to remove obstacles 


to the purposes of the Most High. If the heavens 
show the handiwork of God, shall not the redeemed be 
to His glory for ever ? 

3. There was also a Divine plan in each creation. It 
was not the effect of chance. God said of the old 
creation that it was ' very good.' It was a deliberate 
act of intelligent wisdom answering to the archetypal 
pattern of the Divine mind. So, too, in the new crea- 
tion, in the plan of salvation. ' Now look here/ said 
the preacher, becoming colloquial for the moment, 
' deny that doctrine and you throw the Gospel into con- 
fusion, like touching the law of gravitation in the natural 
world. Deny the plan of Redemption, and you snap 
the adamantine chain that binds my soul to the Throne 
of God ! ' 

4. Lastly in the order of events, there was a striking 
parallel between the natural and spiritual creation. 
Light was first created. Elohim said ' Let light be, and 
light was ! ' Even the heathen admired the sublimity 
of that utterance. It was not that light was then first 
created; but light already existing was shed in this 
lower sphere. The spiritual parallel was again at hand. 
God shines into our hearts. The eye is not the cause 
of sight, but the light shining on the retina ; and so is 
God the source of illumination. With regard to the 
distinction between light and darkness, too. Darkness 
was only negative. So God only created goodness. 
Sin has no positive being ; it is the defect and destruc- 
tion of being. Philosophers might talk very finely 
about virtue and vice being relative terms only, and say 
there was no absolute standard. ' The Lord deliver us 
from such philosophers and their philosophy. It will 
be the curse of society.' ' If the planets/ Mr Forrest 
proceeded to say, ' refuse to obey the sun, they would 
become wandering stars, and so should we if we did not 
reflect the light of Christ. Like the Apocalyptic angel, 
stand in the sun. Shed forth life-giving light. Christ 
rules you, and you, as lesser lights, should rule the 
world/ But ' whatever you do to elevate people up to 
you/ he added towards the conclusion, ' take precious 


good care that they do not drag you down to their level/ 
At the conclusion of this very lengthy address Mr For- 
rest said a few words on the subject of the collection then 
about to be made for the choir. The nature of this 
brief address was even more remarkable than that of 
the sermon which had preceded it, as evidencing the 
power of the Evangelical clergy over their people through 
the pulpit, scarcely exceeded by that of another school 
in the confessional. The words were authoritative as a 
i Papal Bull, brusque as a direction by Abernethy. He 
was aware, he said, that some of the congregation 
objected to so much music, and especially to the chant- 
ing of the Psalms ; but it was his opinion that the 
Psalms should be sung, and while he remained vicar 
such would be the case. He begged the congregation 
to contribute, or, if they had not come provided, to 
send him their subscriptions. So they paid their con- 
tributions like good people, and the organist played us 
out of church to a jaunty air which would have made 
an old Puritan of Islington or Clapham shiver in his 

Now, here surely is a very exceptional, yet possibly 
a transitional, Evangelicalism, heralding, it may be, a 
vast change. On that very morning the Eev. Capel 
Molyneux was holding his first ' Liturgical Service ' in 
St James's Hall ; and the next evening Mr Mason Jones 
was to inaugurate a series of meetings for the Disestab- 
lishment of the Church of England. Is such the tend- 
ency, viz., towards fusion of thought and practice in 
the Church, and the elimination of those rigid bodies 
and original minds who refuse to adapt themselves ? 
We may not augur, but certainly there has been evi- 
denced in these three preliminary sketches an unex- 
pected consensus, in practice, if not in precept, between 
three bodies generally supposed to be diametrically 
opposed either to other the Advanced Broad, the De- 
mocratic Ritualistic, and the Transitional Evangelical 
Church of England. 



WHEN one of our leading scientific men was asked 
to sit on the Committee of the Dialectical Society 
for investigating Spiritualism, he replied that he would 
as soon take tea and spend the evening with the curate 
of the parish ; which was his particular form of ex- 
pressing intense disinclination to accept the proffered 
honour. There is a wide-spread idea that clergymen 
are, as a rule, what one of our literary papers termed 
1 fatally uninteresting ; ' nay, there is a sort of notion 
among the faithful that it is not right for parsons to be 
interesting, or do anything but preach and attend 
mothers' meetings. To play any instrument but the 
flute or pianoforte is wicked for a curate a guitar 
occupying debatable ground, but savouring too much 
of the serenade. To write, or, as the elect term it, to 
be a ' literary character/ is 'Bohemian.' I verily believe 
many good but narrow-minded persons think that 
writers, actors, and poets except, of course c goody ' 
ones live in daily defiance of the rules of morality, and 
are what they group under their wide category of ' im- 
proper persons/ 

There is no doubt, however, that the class of clerical 
contributors to our London journals and magazines is a 
large and increasing one. Many a secular editorial chair 
is filled, and ably filled, by a gentleman in orders. The 
rationale is not far to seek. With many University 
graduates a liberal education constitutes the sole stock 
in trade., and it is a fact beyond dispute that Providence 
always seems to bless' with a special benediction the 
domestic quivers of those on whose heads have rested 
episcopal hands. Failing interest for ecclesiastical pre- 


ferment, or a rich, maiden aunt or thriving papa to build 
a church, there are two courses open to such clerical 
'Bohemians' tuition or literature. Some combine 


And such men, in the metropolis and most large 
towns, constitute almost a class by themselves. They 
are generally poor, or not rich, men; and consequently 
cannot indulge in the ' luxury of private opinions ' to 
the extent of becoming advanced Ritualists or pro- 
nounced Broad Churchmen. As Evangelicals they may 
make it pay if they go in for hymns or pious leaders ; 
but, as a rule, your literary or scholastic parson is not a 
man of extreme opinions. He brings to bear, however, 
on orthodox dogmas, a vigour of thought for which the 
Church, perhaps, is not sufficiently grateful. Curates 
in regular harness, especially the bachelors and incapa- 
bles, denounce him as ' irregular/ because he does not 
go in for school-treats and tea-drinkings ; but he is 
generally to the front on a collection Sunday, or when a 
national Thanksgiving or other exceptional event de- 
mands something out of the ordinary grooves and ruts. 
The literary parson is eminently free from ruts, and 
will bear printing. The stock curate is often open to 
the suspicion of thirteen-penny-halfpenny ' sermons in 

It was some such literary cleric I determined to c do ' ; 
but in order that my lucubrations might not be too 
advanced for ordinary sympathies, I avoided Mr Stopford 
Brooke's afternoon lecture at York Chapel on ' Theology 
in Shelley/ and determined to visit another of those foci 
of the lettered parson, Berkeley Chapel, where the Rev. 
Teignmouth Shore, a clergyman whose literature is 
duly tempered with ecclesiasticism, had recently made 
his debut. Mr Shore won better than golden opinions 
viz., gold medals at Trinity College, Dublin for 
English composition and oratory ; has since, for reasons 
best known to himself, exchanged his Hibernian degree 
for an ad eundem Oxford M.A. ; has wielded the pen 
successfully in many departments of literature, and now 
fills the editorial chair of the Quiver in Messrs Cassell's 


giant establishment at Belle Sauvage Yard, E.G. But 
Mr Shore has never been ' Bohemian ' to the extent of 
merging the cleric in the litterateur. He has, I believe, 
always preserved the odour of sanctity by retaining 
parochial work in connection with his literary labours. 
He was senior curate to Archdeacon Sinclair at Kensing- 
ton for a time, but disappeared suddenly beneath the 
horizon, greatly to the regret of the congregation. He 
then worked up the Church of St Mildred, Lee, Black- 
heath; and eventually, through the munificence of a 
private patron who recognized his ability, and was not 
staggered at his literary proclivities, was presented to 
the incumbency of Berkeley Chapel, a place of worship 
in the very heart of fashionable London. But, alas ! 
the antecedents of Berkeley Chapel have not been so 
happy as those of its present incumbent. For many 
years it has been ' in the market/ and the price asked 
for this piece of preferment has been such as to scare 
aspiring parsons, insomuch that I know it to be a fact 
that, in answering the advertisements of ecclesiastical 
' agents } for Episcopal chapels, many a clergyman has, 
to avoid unnecessary correspondence, declared himself 
at the outset ready to treat, provided always the 
position were not Berkeley Chapel. A series of un- 
satisfactory incumbents lowered what ought to have 
been a sort of clerical Paradise to the very abyss; it 
being reserved for an ex-colonial prelate to complete 
the facilis descensus. It seemed a hopeless task to 
rescue Berkeley Chapel from its low estate; but Mr 
Shore set himself with characteristic and commendable 
energy thereto. 

When I visited this fane, some three or four weeks 
after Mr Shore's instalment, I was struck first of all by 
the ' downy ' aspect 'of the place. A cheerful fire was 
burning in a stove placed right in the centre of the 
middle aisle, which was carpeted with cozy Brussels. 
The front row of the galleries looked like a series of 
pulpits, for there were three or four pulpy-looking 
cushions in each, with tassels hanging over the front, 
tempting the occupants of the seats to pound them. 


The pews in the body of the chapel had been so evi- 
dently and so recently cut down some three feet that 
the basement gave one the idea of a man with his hair 
cropped, or a sheep a day or two after shearing. In 
fact, some of the old pews remained, in the side aisles 
under the windows, of primitive height, and with curtain 
rods like the tester of a four-post bed round them, but 1 
the drapery removed. Here, at least, was a reminiscence 
of the ' Devotion made easy/ which characterized the 
dear soporiferous old times of one's boyhood. It was, 
perhaps, the last lingering relic in fashionable London ; 
but even Berkeley Chapel was yielding to the genius of 
the age. The chancel, since last I saw it, had been 
raised several gradual paces, and Minton's tiles, which 
cover a multitude of sins, like charity, bedecked its floor. 
The east wall was polychromous, and the Commandments 
things of the past, as though the venerable old Con- 
venticle had outgrown the Decalogue. The pulpit, once 
white as a Jewish sepulchre, blazed in flatted colours 
and gilt ; and the organ had walked, like Aladdin's 
Palace or furniture at a spirit- seance, from the three- 
story gallery at the west end to a position behind the 
choir at the east. The tiny altar was over- draped, like 
a little old lady in a red velvet gown; and a mixed 
choir of ladies and gentlemen were squeezed into the 
apology for a chancel, in an awkward corner of which 
stood also a lectern. Berkeley Chapel tried hard to be 
picturesque under difficulties. 

At half-past eleven the easy hour at which Berkeley 
Square begins its devotions Mr Shore entered, gor- 
geous in Oxford hood and tiny black stole, preceded by 
! such a funny little old gentleman in a green wig, 
and scarf half a yard broad, who seemed to represent 
the genius of the chapel itself in its earliest times. He 
took the first part of the service in a feeble twitter, and 
the choir responded musically according to the ' use ' of 
Helmore, with an organ accompaniment. The Psalms 
were chanted to a separate Anglican chant for each; 
and it was quite evident that the old gentleman who 
officiated had not had any Valentines that year, for he 


gave out tlie 15th. instead of the 16th morning of the 
month, and made Mr Shore look very uncomfortable by 
so doing. The congregation was small and evidently 
aristocratic, far too much so, indeed, to be thrown out 
by any such trifling contretemps. Mr Shore read the 
Lessons. The first was the difficult one of the Fall, in 
Genesis iii. He read it rapidly, and rather as though 
he was glad to get over it ; but in the second, which 
contained the account of the Last Supper, he displayed 
considerable pathos without the slightest theatrical 
effect. The funny little gentleman ( gave out ' the 
Collect for ' Sexagesima Sunday, or the second before 
Lent/ like a parish clerk. A rather ' high 3 hymn was 
sung from the ' Ancient and Modern ' collection, com- 
mencing ' The Church's one foundation/ and speaking 
of the Establishment by the feminine personal pronoun 
all through. In it, too, occurred the significant stanza 
which seemed to say Berkeley Chapel was ' looking 
up : ' 

' Though, with, a scornful wonder 

Men see her sore opprest, 
By schisms rent asunder, 

By heresies distrest ; 
Yet saints their watch are keeping ; 

Their cry goes up, " How long ? " 
And soon the night of weeping 

Shall be the morn of song.' 

By way of making it a ' morn of song ' at Berkeley 
Chapel, Mr Shore proceeded to intone the Litany, the 
responses to which were made in unison by the choir to 
organ accompaniment ; a needless waste of strength, it 
seemed to me, as the ladies and gentlemen were quite 
equal to harmony. The hymn ' Paradise ' followed, 
sung to the former and less satisfactory tune in ' Hymns 
Ancient and Modern.' Next came the sermon, which, 
I honestly confess, was what I had come to hear and 

Mounting the polychromous pulpit, in surplice, stole, 
and hood, as before, Mr Shore, without premonitory 
col lect, gave out as his text the words from St Matthew 


xiii. 31 33 : ' The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain 
of mustard- seed which, a man took and sowed in his 
field j which indeed is the least of all seeds ; bat when 
it is grown it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh 
a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the 
branches thereof. .... The kingdom of heaven is like 
unto leaven which a woman took and hid in three mea- 
sures of meal till the whole was leavened/ 

No subject, said the preacher, did the Master oftener 
dwell on than the nature of the kingdom which was to 
bear His name. He explained it by all kinds of parable 
and illustration ; and there could scarcely be two more 
dissimilar than those quoted ; one referring to an out- 
ward visible progress, and the other to an inward, in- 
tangible, invisible, subtle influence. There was some- 
thing to be learnt as to the nature of the kingdom from 
the very dissimilarity of the allegories. There was a 
lesson in each separately, and another in their juxtaposi- 

Looking back by the light of Church History we could 
not but be struck to see how the little seed became 
a great tree, whereto the nations of the earth flocked 
for shelter. The fact of success argued the Divine 
nature of Christ's religion. Everything was opposed to 
it. Over against the selfishness of the heathen world 
stood the Christian doctrine of self-sacrifice. Christi- 
anity came to the intellect of Greece, and told it there 
was something greater than intellect in man ; and yet, 
when Paul preached in Athens, there was not a man in 
tattered tunic or with broidered sandal but felt that he 
spoke with a power not of this world, and taught a 
morality purer and diviner than any they could learn in 
the schools of their philosophers. So, too, with regard 
to the brute force of Rome. Christianity, first flung to 
the beasts, came to wear the diadem of the Cassars. It 
never pandered to the vices of heathenism ; nay, it op- 
posed all that was dearest to it. A fiercer opposition to 
Christianity came from the Jew. He looked for a tem- 
poral ruler to bring back the splendour of the old tra- 
ditional faith, and drive Rome from the dearly-loved 


land ; but instead of this the Jew found One who ' was 
led as a lamb to the slaughter. 7 He looked for an ex- 
clusive Messiah, but Jesus of Nazareth opposed exclu- 
siveness. All was against Christianity : and yet she 
triumphed over the prestige of Judaism as over the in- 
tellect of Greece and the brute force of Rome. The cry 
of Divine agony that came from those pale lips beneath 
the awful shadow of the crown of thorns, shattered for 
ever her altar, and rent the vail of Jewish exclusiveness ; 
and ever since, for eighteen centuries, the tide of suffer- 
ing humanity has flowed in above that prostrate altar 
and through that torn vail, and broken with its surf of 
sorrow upon the very footsteps of the Throne of God. 
How could we explain the historic marvel of this growth? 
Only by another aspect revealed in the Parable of the 

There was nothing outwardly to account for it. 
Twelve men, only two or three of whom were educated, 
and none of whom had any social or political influence, 
effected this miracle. There was no appeal to processes 
by which other creeds had grown. We must look for 
it in the leaven that worked in their hearts. The Divine 
Power was greater than the opposing* forces, as spirit is 
more potent than matter. It was greater than prejudice, 
greater than intellect, greater than material force. What, 
in a word, he asked, was the essence of Christianity ? 
What, ' in cant phrase/ was the ' one thing needful ' ? 
Some say it is a particular church system ; some a creed 
or shibboleth. Turn to the history of the early Christians, 
and we find the one thing represented by the leaven was 
faith. ' One's almost afraid/ he added, ' to use the word. 
It is just as though you should take a leaf from a tree, 
and put it between the pages of a book. Years after, 
you would find only the dry and dusty skeleton of what 
was once so full of life. So faith has had all the life 
crushed out of it by ponderous volumes of theology, in 
which it has been discussed. To us it means now too* 
often the cry of a party, or the standard of a sect. To 
an Apostle it meant personal trust in Christ, absorption 
of will in His. It was no mere assent to intellectual 


propositions. It was a deathless trust in Christ the 
Saviour ; and this was the secret of success in early 

Mr Shore then proceeded to draw two practical les- 
sons. First, this was still the best defence of Christi- 
anity. People told us of their difficulty in believing 
miracles. But what was this compared with the huge 
difficulty of believing that the world was converted by 
twelve men without Divine help basing a pure morality 
on lies ? ' I could believe any miracle, in or out of the 
Bible, sooner than that twelve impostors went about 
living the purest lives teaching the noblest morality, 
and basing it all upon what they knew to be false. 

The second lesson was that, now as then, the progress 
of the leaven in individual hearts was still the condition 
of the Church's success. If she was to transform 
national and political life it would be outwardly in direct 
proportion to the influence existing in the heart. 

' Try,' he concluded, ' to let the God-given leaven 
leaven the whole man, not only one day in the week or 
at religious services, but always and everywhere. We 
have heard too much of outward ceremonies, forms of 
words, Bible and Prayer Book and Sundays We want 
the whole man every faculty, intellect as well as soul 
pressed into God's service. We want everything con- 
secrated by being done for God's sake, and in God's 
name. If Christianity is to triumph, it will be when 
such Christians not Sunday Christians or Bible Chris- 
tians, but Christian men and women, consecrate all their 
work by doing it in the spirit of our Lord. Then the 
Church will fulfil her high and holy mission. Then she 
will rise to something of the dignity of her true position. 
Then she will be no longer the scorn of the infidel, or 
the tool of the politician, but the Bride of Christ, passing 
on from victory to victory only to lay all her spoils at 
the Feet of Him who has redeemed her with His blood/ 

Berkeley Chapel has had much to bear, and may seem 
to have entered on a quasi-Millennial era. I question if 
the walls have ever echoed to a better sermon. At least 
it has entered on a respectable condition of existence 


botli in a social and intellectual sense. Let us hope that 
the good time so long coming has come, that Mr Shore 
may be the leaven to leaven this long unfermenting 
edifice, and that it may not be said of Berkeley Chapel as 
of Trafalgar Square, that one of the finest sites in Europe 
is being wasted. 



IT is, perhaps, inevitable that there should be in a 
movement like that of the Broad Church party in the 
Church of England an element which shall seem de- 
structive, and wear the aspect of aggression. It is the 
case with all influences which break in upon routine and 
ruffle the calm of the established order of things. Even 
the Tractarian and Ritualistic movements may be viewed 
in such a light if taken from their point of antagonism 
to the Protestant position ; but these systems are to a 
great degree dogmatic, and therefore, apparently at 
least, affirniative and constructive, if not altogether con- 
servative. The Broad Church position, however, being 
really eclectic, though termed by its male critics latitu- 
dinarian, and by old ladies ( infidel,' does, no doubt, con- 
tain an element of negation in that it protests against 
the dogrnasof all system notably those of Protestantism 
itself being regarded as exhaustive of truth. And this 
^itasi-destructive element has grown around both poles 
of thought. The advanced Broad Churchman of to-day 
differs as widely from the conservative Broad Churchman 
of some years ago as the pronounced Ritualist from the 
original and undeveloped Tractarian. It is in the nature 
of some minds, and so of the schools they influence, to 


become arrested at a certain point in any inquiry, beyond 
which the bolder spirits push recklessly on, while these 
more cautious ones pause and become fossilized, as has 
always been the tendency in such cases since the days 
of Lot's wife. 

Rightly or wrongly, I had got to associate the well- 
known name of the Rev. J. Llewelyn Davies with this 
conservative Broad Churchmanship. I remember the 
time when Mr Davies was thought ' dreadful ' the 
epithet Mesdames Partington and Grundy always attach 
to advanced opinions of any kind. I am amused to 
remember why it was those venerable ladies were so 
scandalized in Mr Davies's particular case. In those 
ancient days, before Essays and Reviews were born, or 
Bishop Colenso thought of, it was deemed worldly to 
wear a beard, and Mr Davies ventured to assume to 
himself that hirsute adornment of manhood. Thereat 
the said ladies waxed wroth, and spread abroad as their 
sex is so capable of doing what I have no doubt was 
an egregious canard in reference to a former Bishop of 
London and Mr Davies's beard. It was proposed to 
hold a Confirmation at Christ Church, but his lordship 
declined to officiate unless the Rector shaved ! I beg it 
to be distinctly understood that I only give this anecdote 
on the authority of my revered friend Mrs Grundy. 
But, just as they say of the Apocryphal Gospels even 
if they are not canonical, they are interesting as showing 
something of the opinions held at an early age of Church 
History ; so Mrs Grundy' s legend about Mr Davies's 
beard is interesting under the same aspect viz., as 
showing what monstrous opinions could be entertained 
in an incipient era of Broad Churchmanship. Now, 
when a man's orthodoxy may almost be measured by the 
length of his beard unless he is very correct, and shaves 
clean and when none but fashionable Evangelicals 
nurse shoulder-of-mutton whiskers, it seems incredible 
that even the fertile imagination of the old lady could 
have invented such a myth as that of the Bishop of 
London and Mr Davies's beard. Mr Davies's beard is 
now I am sure he will excuse my saying it beginning 


to look grizzled, and lie sees the ' movement ' lie was 
one of the first to inaugurate almost universal among his 
clerical brethren : sees how they have outstripped him, 
both in hirsute adornments and in the doctrines they were 
then supposed to symbolize. 

To Mr Davies's church, then, I went on Quinqua- 
gesima Sunday, in the hope of finding my model man of 
the more primitive Broad Church school, as a geologist, 
if he did not know his labour would be in vain, might 
search for fossils in the primary strata. Mr Haweis had 
been what we might describe in the same language as a 
1 later deposit/ Christ Church, Lisson Grove, is a huge 
old-fashioned London parish church, standing in an un- 
fragrant neighbourhood near the Edgeware Eoad station 
of the Metropolitan Railway. It is strange into what 
apparently uncongenial latitudes fate seems to cast 
parsons. Here was a ripe scholar and former Fellow of 
Trinity,- Cambridge, pitchforked into one of the least 
desirable situations of West London, for Lisson Grove 
must be baptized strictly on the principle of lucus anon 
lucendo. There is no grove around Christ Church, and 
the neighbouring streets and alleys among them nota- 
bly James Street are laid down to the sale of semi- stale 
fried fish, cretaceous sweets, and photographs of a 
ghastly and half spirit-like character. . Rows of little 
brass bell-handles, one above the other, decorate the 
doorposts, and sages femmes there ' do congregate,* 
apparently out of all proportion to any increasing popu- 
lation. The old Marylebone Theatre is hard by; and 
marvellous penny exhibitions of distorted babies and fat 
ladies invite the wonder of the little pagans of the 
Grove. But the temple is doing its quiet work among 
those same little pagans. Not only is Mr Davies an 
active member of the School Board bent on reclaiming 
those little heathens from their wanderings in the Grove, 
but go where you will in this unsavoury metropolitan 
parish you find the name of f the Rector-' spoken of 
familiarly as one seldom hears it in London, but con- 
stantly finds it in a country parish. The Rector is 
recognized as an entity, and as a centre of influence. 


Christ Church I found had, like the rest, ' developed' 
from the condition of pristine ugliness in which I had 
last seen it, so that when I entered from the east end 
alongside the chancel I scarcely recognized the place. 
I remember years ago going to hear Canon, then Mr, 
Kingsley preach, and found all 'flat' except the sermon. 
Now, however, the chancel was stalled for a choir and 
raised, so that I was on quite a different level when I 
came in. I fancy the ritualistic condition of a church 
might almost be gauged by the height the sacrarium is 
raised above the nave. A moderate and essentially 
middle-class congregation had begun to gather, and was 
straggling sparsely over the miles of pew in the body of 
the church and obtrusive galleries, which seemed able to 
hold the whole of Lisson Grove on an emergency. No 
such crisis occurred during that morning. Good, sober, 
old John-Bull people, with their wives and families, kept 
dropping in and bolting themselves securely within the 
high-backed pews, which had only partially succumbed 
to modern tendencies by being cut down a little. An- 
other test of adaptation is the height of the pew. One 
is about up to the neck in those at Christ Church, Lisson 
Grove. Those sturdy patres familiarum would evidently 
object to anything in the shape of an ' innovation ; } in 
fact, everything was so conservative at Christ Church 
that the pew-opener, who was arrayed in the ordinary 
russet gown and dismantled bonnet of James Street, 
rather looked on me as an intruder, I think ; for, despite 
my white tie, which generally carries weight with such 
officials, she put me into a side pew nearly out of sight 
and quite out of hearing of the pulpit, where a lot of 
other people, and especially one awe-stricken but pain- 
fully polite little girl, prevented me from taking my notes 
in peace and comfort. This arrangement was more un 
necessary, as there were acres of room in the church. 
So I think stray parsons must be looked on as interlopers, 
and thus tacitly recommended to stick to their own 
church. Of the other adornments of the place I need 
not say more than that the elevated chancel was paved 
with the inevitable Minton, and the altar richly draped 


with velvet ; but the Ten Commandments stood full in 
the centre, flanked by the Creed and Lord's Prayer in 
fullest conservative fashion. The pulpit was of the 
orthodox tumbler-glass kind, which makes you wonder 
why the position of the centre of gravity does not 
necessitate its tumbling over, and calculate what harm 
it would do the orator to fall from such a height. There 
was, however, a gorgeous hanging of red velvet in place 
of a cushion, to match the altar, and with an intricate 
cross beautifully embroidered upon it. That was nearly 
all I could see from my retired position, though I craned 
my neck to catch a glimpse until, I fancy, the polite 
little girl, who kept plying me with sacred literature, 
thought I was practising for an acrobat. 

At eleven o'clock soft music commenced, and a quaint 
effect was produced by two surpliced processions simul- 
taneously entering the church at its extreme ends, and 
walking towards each other as though they were white 
dragoons advancing to the attack. From the east, 
behind the altar, came the clergy, preceded by a beadle 
with an aggressive-looking mace ; and from the west a 
surpliced choir. They met in the centre by a brass 
lectern, and thence filed into their positions in the 

Mr Davies's curate was one of those disappointing 
men who, being of stalwart proportions, lead one to 
expect a basso prof ondo voice, but who treat one instead 
to a feeble falsetto. The prayers, as far as he was con- 
cerned, were read ; and though his voice was singularly 
clear, only its feeble echoes reached me in my hermit 
cell. Perhaps that was why it seemed so thin and weak. 
The responses were sung to an accompaniment, and the 
Psalms chanted. I even noticed that more favoured 
pews than mine had printed lists of the music arranged 
for the whole month ; and this it was, no doubt, which 
produced what I so seldom find in my ecclesiastical 
wanderings, an agreeable consentaneity of the hymns 
with the rest of the service. Too often they seem taken 
at haphazard. I really hope my presence has no mag- 
netic or mesmeric effect in making curates give out the 


wrong psalms; but just as on the previous Sunday 
the old gentleman had done at Berkeley Chapel, so 
this thin-voiced young gentleman at Christ Church 
threw everything into confusion by announcing the 
twenty-sixth morning of the month instead of the 
twenty-third. It seems like going back to an unlettered 
age to give these things out at all ; and yet one con- 
stantly finds it done, even where notices are freely circu- 
lated in the pews, especially in the case of an impending 
collection. After the second lesson, a number of banns 
were published by the Eectorj and I could not help 
thinking (though I suppose Mrs G. would say it was 
' wrong '] that if I wanted to marry on the sly, I should 
like to have the interesting fact of the approaching 
ceremony announced at Christ Church, and any dis- 
sentient relative of the bride- elect located where I was. 
I heard nothing but the ( bachelors ' and ' spinsters/ 
All faced due east at the Creed, and bowed reverently 
at the sacred name; and a somewhat ludicrous effect 
was produced by the organist accompanying the Creed 
on a single high note with a stop which made it shrill 
as a railway whistle. ][ am aware this is done to prevent 
the choir losing the pitch ; but I would humbly suggest 
a little softening down. It was quite a relief to the 
ear when we subsided into harmony at the final ' Amen/ 
We went on straight to the Litany after the third 
collect, thereby losing the chance of utilizing our really 
good choir for an additional hymn. This was a pity 
for the sermon was a little heavy and would have borne 
more music. The Litany itself was read, but the 
responses sung to an accompaniment. It was well 
done on the whole, but dragged. The congregation 
was not up to the responses at least the male portion. 
The ladies sang the tune, but the patres familiarum 
growled under the impression they were singing bass ; 
just as an evangelical lady always sings in consecutive 
thirds to the air, and terms it ' singing second/ It is, 
I believe, an article of religion with puritanical ladies to 
do this. Mr Daviesread the ante- Communion Service, 
and then, the choir having sung hymn 333 from the 


ubiquitous ' Ancient and Modern Collection/ the clergy 
left the altar, and Mr Davies retired to the vestry, re- 
appearing soon after in conservative black gown and 
cassock, and got up into the tumbler-glass pulpit. I 
looked anxiously for bands under the historic beard, but 
there were none. 

The text was taken from 1 Thessalonians iii. 12 : 
'The Lord make you to increase and abound in love 
one toward another and toward all men/ The discourse 
was little more than a moral essay, or at most a homily. 
It was evidently meant to be no more ; but was scholarly 
and practical, and listened to with marked attention, 
though not with the overstrained anxiety and paren- 
thesis of pent-up coughs that accompany the inflated 
utterances of favourite ' divines. 7 As to coughs, the 
little semi-pagan school- children, who were dangling 
between earth and heaven somewhere up about the 
apex of the organ, seemed to be universally affected 
with asthma or croup, and coughed without ceasing. 
' On this day, Christian brethren/ said the preacher, 
1 love was commended to our admiration ; and it was a 
great thing to be said of love ^that it commands the 
general approval and assent of mankind. It was an 
emotion which was most useful to the world. It included 
all virtues, and guaranteed fellowship with God, for we 
were told that " Grod is Love." Love, therefore, ac- 
cording to the Christian doctrine, secured holiness, . 
We were told to be holy, as He is holy/ One of the 
first things taught us about love, was that it was the 
gift of God. As such we can but pray for it, as, he 
trusted, they had prayed that morning in reciting the 
collect for Quinquagesima Sunday. The more we 
simply confessed love to be the gift of God, the more 
likely we were to have it. We could not too thoroughly 
believe that we were dependent on God's grace. Such 
faith would be proved by inward tests ; and no gift was 
so much to be desired as this gift of love. ' Do you 
believe this ? ' he asked. ' Then pray to God for this 
most precious of His gifts/ But then, he went on to 
say, prayer is the ' Godward aspect of labour/ So it 


was that St Paul said, ' Follow after charity/ ' But Low 
could we confess this to be the gift of God,, and yet 
strive to attain to it ? This was a mystery to be solved 
only by the experiences of life ; but our whole relation 
to God was of this inexplicable character. It came to 
be natural to us to pray as if we could do nothing, and 
at the same time to act as if we could do everything. 
Another difficulty which could not thus easily be put 
aside was, Can we increase love by effort ? Was it not 
a gift? Without making difficulties, thoughts like 
these would, he said, occur. Love was drawn out by 
some object that we deemed lovable. The most genuine 
love was the least self-conscious. Was it wholesome, 
then, to try to love what we ought to love ? He would 
answer thus : that charity was in this sense to be 
followed, not directly, but indirectly. It was possible 
to resolve on certain modes of following love. For 
instance, we might studiously fix our minds on what 
was most lovable, such as the grace of God, and then 
whatever in man reflected this grace. To the first 
Christians the preaching of this love of God which cul- 
minated in the voluntary self-sacrifice of Christ, eclipsed 
everything else. This reconciliation drew out the 
affection of man to God more than anything. The act 
of creation was nothing on God's part compared with 
the giving up His Son to live as a servant and die as a 
malefactor. If this death of Christ could be brought 
home to thoughtful minds, it must touch them, and so 
kindle a genuine devotion. As men's thoughts were 
fixed on the Cross, their hearts became softer and their 
lives less selfish. It had been said that nature revealed 
the goodness of God ; but nature was not exclusively 
beneficent. There were destructive forces at work in 
it. We might, from nature alone, doubt whether the 
Creator was perfectly good; we might be perplexed 
by social ills ; but in Christ on the Cross we see heavenly 
love put forth with an emphasis that carries all before 
it. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. 
In loving God the Father, then, we were led to love 
man, our brother, also. Let us fix our attention on 



what was best in man. Let us remember what was good 
and great in the ages past. Let us look forward to the 
glory that shall be revealed. Look, he repeated, at 
what is good in man ; not at the sins and follies which 
keep the world back. A second mode of following 
charity was practising ourselves in Idnd actions. There 
was, he urged, nothing unnatural in the discipline of 
doing our best to those around us. Those who did 
kindness grew more kindly. Men were ever wont to 
hate those whom they had injured, and to love those 
whom they had benefited. Efforts to relieve those in 
necessity had, in point of fact, come to monopolize the 
name of ' charity ; ' and one of the saddest things in our 
experience was that efforts to relieve the poor constantly 
brought out in them mendicancy and deceit; so that 
people got to think they must harden their hearts to a 
tale of woe. It was, however, firmness, not hardness, 
that was required. The desire to do good might often 
be disappointed; still we must not harden our hearts. 
But there was an old saying, that charity began at home ; 
and it might even be necessary to remind those who 
had just used the Quinquagesima collect that forbear- 
ance was often necessary at home. It was not 
difficult to be pleasant to one's friends ; but it was 
difficult to get on with the uncongenial : and it was in 
such discipline as this Christians should exercise them- 
selves. True, there was no respect of persons with God, 
or those who were most like God, most truly His 
children; they held themselves bound to honour all 
men ; but still, in another sense, there was f respect for 
persons/ They respected every person. Thirdly, this 
love needed protection. There were hostile influences 
from, which love needed to be shielded. For instance, 
there were continually occurring petty incidents cal- 
culated to interrupt harmony. A word or a look might 
give offence, and thence might spring up resentment. 
Was it too much to ask that such avoided? 
Nothing was needed beyond a little self-control. ' You/ 
he said, ' young or old, who desire to follow after 
Christian love, can keep watch over your tongues ; can 


suppress the look or tone of defiance ; can beware of 
the first symptoms of anger.' A more subtle influence 
still was self-indulgence. If any loved the world, it had 
been said, the love of the Father was not in him. Those 
who loved the world and tried to combine with it the 
love of God found such to be not incompatible with a 
certain good nature, but fatal to anything like self-' 
sacrifice. This demanded a labour which the self- 
indulgent were unable to render. On the whole, we 
might encourage ourselves in the conviction that there 
was no insignificant aid to love in watchfulness. It 
was not in vain to keep watch over the doors of our 
life, and what goes out and comes in at them. These 
were the methods he suggested Contemplation, Prac- 
tice, and Defensive Watchfulness ; not forgetting that 
love was God's gift, nor, on the other hand, neglecting 
to put ourselves in the way of the gift. 

Such a season as Lent, he said and I pricked up my 
ears to hear the Broad Church deliver itself thereanent 
was designed for this purpose, to aid efforts for the 
attainment of Christian love. Some of the traditional 
language as to the observance of Lent might cause a 
stumbling-block, such as the advice to suspend all re- 
laxation for so long a time, or the discipline of fasting. 
Many were far from believing in that discipline ; but a 
season of contemplation, practice, and watchfulness, in 
respect of Christian charity, might bring 1 a blessing 
with it. If Christian love could possibly be made more 
energetic, what would we not do to compass such an 
end ? ' Do ' such was the purport of the peroration 
c whatever God shows you to be most conducive to such 
an issue/ " 

A little jog-trot perhaps, and savouring of the idea 
that Lisson Grove was a grove indeed, and its pagans 
true to the etymology of that name ; but suited still 
to the genius loci. A destructive criticism would cer- 
tainly not have suited those pewfuls of Tory-looking 
pat-res fa-miliarum. Frothy eloquence they were, I am 
sure, far too sensible to stand. ' The Rector ' was evi- 
dently true to his name too the right man in the 
right place. 


So, ere these lines saw the light, Carnival was over, 
our pancakes eaten, our annual banquet of unascetic 
salt-fish discussed, and we were landed in Lent. It is 
a season greatly to be desired by the student of ecclesi- 
astical development. We may have to take our parsons 
no longer singly, but in groups or bouquets. The world 
of Orthodox London was before us where to choose our 
place of rest, and we laid in a goodly stock of note-books 
and pencils for chronicling the salient features of the 
Lent of 1873. 


80 far, our studies of representative men in the Church 
of England have been confined to what we may term 
the sphere of positive opinions. The Broad Churchman 
rests on his basis of common sense ; the Ritualist relies 
on the aesthetic element in worship and the sacrificial 
doctrine in matters of faith; the Evangelical preaches 
the Gospel, the whole Grospel, and nothing but the Gos- 
pel. But there is a wide and well-defined sphere of 
what may without offence be termed negative religion. 
It is best described by its own self-chosen title of Pro- 
testantism. Without, of course, for one moment saying 
that its professors ignore or neglect what is positive in 
faith or morals, that which differentiates the one and the 
other is hostility to Rome and whatever is Roman in 
genius or tendency. It is quite consistent with fidelity 
to the Church of England to entertain each or any of 
these different theories to hold, that is, that at the 
Reformation she elaborated for herself a system based 
upon or divergent from the old faith. The two elements 
are there, beyond a doubt ; and it is no disrespect to 
the Established Church to confess her the result of a 


compromise; but there are many of lier most earnest 
members who will not allow this. On one side the line 
between Eome and England is only the shadowy one of 
the supremacy. In all other respects the systems are 
one and the same. On the other, ' No peace with Rome ' 
is the one badge of profession. Among endlessly vary -7 
ing details of faith and practice this, which I have ven- 
tured to call a negative characteristic, forms a common 
bond of union. I term the school that of Aggressive 
Protestantism, and I take the Rev. Robert Maguire, 
Yicar of Clerkenwell, as beyond a doubt the represent- 
ative of this school. In point of actual divergence from 
Rome, it would, of course, be quite true to say that the 
Broad Churchman differed toto ccelo, but it is not on that 
difference he elects to take his stand. The Aggressive 
Protestant does, and it makes me feel very old indeed 
when I recollect how many years ago it was I heard Mr 
Maguire, then Secretary of the North London Protestant 
Institute, preach a sermon in the parish church, Isling- 
ton, on the Romish doctrine of Intention. I was then 
coquetting with the mild Puseyism of a quarter of a 
century since, and thought Mr Maguire, if not an actual 
heretic, at least very unessthetic and unappreciative. I 
gloried at that time in my title of Anglo-Catholic ; but 
I still see him ' in my mind's eye/ surrounded by piles 
of folios, in the lofty three-decker of St Mary's, Isling- 
ton; and I recollect how very clinching his arguments 
were against tbat little understood doctrine of Roman- 
ism. It is not many sermons a man can recall after 
twenty years ; but I have a distinct recollection of that 
discourse, and on renewing my acquaintance with Mr 
Maguire on a recent Wednesday evening I found him 
still dealing very hard blows indeed at the old enemy. 

I selected a week-day instead of a Sunday for my 
visit'to Clerkenwell, because I had seen announced in 
the Times the opening of a series of historical lectures 
on ' The Martyrs and Reformers of the Church/ to be 
followed by an examination and distribution of prizes 
awarded by the Protestant Educational Institute. Now, 
here was a certain opportunity for catching my Aggres- 


sive Protestant in full protest. Accordingly, being 
informed by the printed announcements that Clerk en- 
well Church was only four minutes from Farringdon 
Street Station, I availed myself once more of the Metro- 
politan Rail, which serves to link together the most 
opposite poles of religious thought, and soon found 
myself, only about half-an-hour too early, in the fine 
parish church by the Sessions House, where a cheery old 
verger was just lighting up. I invariably go thus early, 
to get the genius loci well into my constitution, and, if 
possible, to confab with the beadle or pew-openers if 
they happen to be, as at Clerkenwell, civil and com- 

St James's Church must be capable of accommodating 
a very large congregation, with its double tier of gal- 
leries, which so gladden the eyes of -an ultra-Protestant. 
Of course, it was not full on the occasion to which I 
refer. In fact, the galleries were not used, but the 
body of the church was well filled, the congregation 
consisting mainly, but by no means exclusively, of 
young men. Prizes ranging from 1 to 10 were 
offered for the competitors who should pass an examina- 
tion to be held in April. So there was a novel element 
of studentship in the congregation which lent an addi- 
tional interest to the gathering. Having ' interviewed ' 
Mr Maguire in the vestry beforehand, I was installed in 
a vast official pew, sacred to the churchwardens and 
sidesmen, but occupied on this occasion by myself, a 
curate, and the vicar's wife, both of whom took volum- 
inous notes. 

The fine old chimes rang out for a quarter of an hour, 
and then Mr Maguire entered and took his place at a 
lectern, which stood in front of one of the old-fashioned 
pulpits and reading-desks in the centre of the church 
at the east end. He was clad in surplice, Dublin M.A. 
hood, and bands, and commenced the brief initiatory 
service with a hymn from a small collection which was 
used at open-air services, and circulated in little sheets 
in the church. The congregation joined heartily, the 
curate mildly, as became a curate ; but the vicar's wife. 


if she will pardon the personality, sang like a whole 
congregation rolled into one. There is nothing more 
characteristic of the Evangelical school than this power 
of hymn-singing, often combined with a faculty of 
eloquent prayer, which is traceable throughout the lay 
community much in the same proportion as extempore 
preaching prevails among the clergy. I take this as an 
evident symptom of sincerity. They have their religion 
always ready to hand. We may not like the quality of 
the article ;' in fact, we may think it often savours too 
much of one Article the 17th ; but there it is, such as 
it is. In professions of other branches of the faith one 
too often finds the faculties of prayer and praise well- 
nigh paralyzed. 

To return to my narrative. After the hymn had been 
sung the Apostles' Creed was recited ; several collects 
were read, including those for St John Baptist's, St 
Peter's, St Mark's, and All Saints' Day; the General 
Thanksgiving was taken full- voiced by the congregation 
as it surely ought to be in conjunction with the 
Minister ; the Apostolic Benediction was given, a second 
hymn sung, and the brief service, appropriate for its 
character as well as its brevity, was over. After a 
voluntary, the lecture began, Mr Maguire having pre- 
viously arrayed himself in his academic gown, and 
delivering his discourse in a slow and quasi-professorial 
style, so as to allow of notes being taken by his student- 
congregation. The first lecture was purely introductory 
to the course, and was to the following effect. It is, of 
course, necessary largely to condense, as the discourse 
was very long. It was always practical, often eloquent, 
and if it erred at all it was only in the way of prolixity. 

God, said the lecturer, has ever sought the service 
of true men. All loyal service is the service of the 
heart, and God is satisfied with nothing short of this. 
And although all hearts are known to Him, yet, for 
many reasons, God will have men's hearts and affections 
proved. (1) For His own sake, that His work should 
be honoured in the testimony; (2) for the individual's 
sake, that ' the trial of faith, being much more precious 


than of gold tliat perisheth, may be found unto praise, 
and honour, and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ ; ' 
and (3) for His Church's sake, that, by the ' cloud of 
witnesses/ each may be encouraged to run with patience. 
Thus, amidst the illustrations of faith, in the Church's 
history, there are none more interesting, more bracing, 
or more pertinent than those recounted in Heb. xi., and 
since continued in the lives and deaths of ' martyrs ' in 
the Church of Christ. 

The English word ' martyr/ he said, is purely a Greek 
word (papTvp), signifying a ' witness/ The Latin word 
is testis, from whence our word Proliant, a ivitness for, 
or in behalf of, Truth. The word ' martyr ' did not 
originally mean one who had witnessed unto death. It 
is used in its ordinary sense (a witness] in the following 
passages : Matt, xviii, 16; Actsi. 8; vii. 58; Heb.xii. 
1. Yet, even in the Holy Scriptures, it came ere long 
to be used in its more limited sense, but then always 
with some intensifying expression, indicating suffering 
and death e.g., Acts xxii. 20, ' the blood of thy martyr 
Stephen ; } Rev. ii. 13, ' Antipas, my faithful martyr, 
slain among you ; ' Rev. xvii. 6, ' the blood of the martyrs 
of Jesus/ In modern language the word has come to 
be applied to that class of witnesses only who suffered 
unto death. These were called ' martyrs ; ' short of 
death, they were called ' confessors/ 

Martyrdom is a voluntary death for a cause dying 

for testimony; not as culprits and felons, who would 

escape if they could, and elude the sentence of their 

punishments. The men of whom we speak in these 

lectures, suffered willingly, joyfully, and ' counted it all 

joy ' when they fell into these fiery trials. When John 

Frith was told he might escape if he liked, and his 

gaolers were disposed to leave him and give him a chance, 

he said, ' If you go away, you will find Frith at your 

heels/ Rogers was offered pardon at the last, and 

under the most tempting circumstances in the presence 

of his wife and ten children and he declined to accept 

deliverance, so that Fuller, the witty historian, says of 

him ' Rogers had eleven good reasons to favour himself 


namely, a wife and ten children ! ' If ever a cause 
was honoured in its adherents, it was the Reformation. 
Science and Philosophy afford no such testimonies ; it 
is only religion that has the witness of blood ; and for 
this motive ' Having respect unto the recompense of 
the reward/ 

The deaths of martyrs were not expiatory, but only 
exemplary ; not for atonement, but for witness and 
example. There is every possible difference between 
the two, and it is important to b.ear this in mind, lest we 
confound things that differ. It is in this wise ; there are 
some who would discredit and depreciate the atoning 
death of Christ, by urging that it was a distinguished 
martyrdom. But it is not so : Christ was not merely a 
martyr ; an infinitely higher value attaches to His death 
He died not merely to attest a doctrine, but to atone 
for sin. Jesus was a sin-offering ; and hence the dis- 
tinction between a martyrdom for testimony and a 
sacrifice for atonement. The death of Christ was utterly 
unlike a martyr's death. He died in agony, with strong 
crying and tears ; praying that his ' cup } might pass 
from him ; He sought deliverance from the bitter end, 
and cried out against his pains; not so the Martyrs 
they endured all gladly, smiled at approaching death, 
embraced the pyre and clasped the faggots, welcomed 
their awful death, and rallied each other in the flames. 
With Jesus it was not so ; witness the ' seven cries from 
the cross/ What was like to that in the martyr scenes ? 
In agonizing pain he died ; and above all, that cry that 
martyrs never uttered 'My God, my God, why hast 
thou forsaken me ? ' The martyrs never felt themselves 
forsaken. God was never so near to them as at the 
burning stake. And why was all this ? Because in 
Christ God found sin that day ; and wherever God finds 
sin, ' He must visit it/ He found it that day in His own 
sinless Son, who ' was made sin for us ;' and He smote 
him 'The chastisement of our peace was upon Him/ 
His was a vicarious offering ' The just for the unjast/ 
Christ Jesus bore our sins, the sins of the whole world ; 
but martyrs bore only their own cross, in their testi- 


mony for winch they died. ' Divine justice was satisfied ' 
in the death of Christ, while human malic.e triumphed in 
the death of martyrs. 

The history of the martyrs, he continued, begins early 
'from the blood of righteous Abel/ Some of the 
earliest impulses of the Christian faith were from the 
same cause. The child Jesus Himself emerged as from 
a sea of blood, in the martyrdom of the holy innocents 
Herod's first-fruits, the first droppings of the storm. 
John the Baptist was imprisoned and beheaded for his 
bold testimony. Stephen's death was for witness ; and 
its immediate effect was to strike deeper the fibres of 
the Church, and to scatter the seed as it ripened, to re- 
produce itself in other fields. Thus, even then it was 
true that ( the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the 
Church/ Nearly all the Apostles testified by their death 
to the truths they preached, and thus has it been from 
time to time ever since. 

And for what cause, he asked, was persecution then ? 
and from whence did it proceed ? The religion of Christ 
was to pervade the world, and, to this end, it must an- 
tagonize every false system. Therefore, it provoked 
opposition from "the first. It brought ' not peace, but a 
sword.' Christianity was a new revelation, setting up 
new interests, new duties, new responsibilities. With a 
determined future, as living leaven it was to work till 
the whole was leavened; and it gave early signs of its 
living power. It was sent forth to convert the world, to 
pronounce all existing religions worthless or effete, to 
cast down imaginations, to abolish idols, and to establish 
a spiritual religion. The effect on such heathen religions 
was great and vital. This overturning of long-cherished 
institutions and beliefs would be sure to be unwelcome, 
and to be opposed with might and main. Against two 
opposing forces . Christianity had to contend against 
the Jew, with all his legal and national prejudice of 
religion and of blood ; against the Gentile, with all his 
numberless superstitions, backed up by the power of im- 
perial Rome. Christianity, as it was then preached in all 
the fervour of its first love, would admit no compromise. 


Dagon must fall and Christ be exalted; Aaron's rod 
must blossom though, all other rods be barren and bare ; 
the image that fell down from Jupiter must be shown to 
be but the work of the craftsman. 

Accordingly Rome, the chief seat of government, 
became the chief place of persecution. Cassar was the 
scourge of the Church of God. All hatred and malice 
and disaffection to the cause of Christ culminated there. 
The Coliseum bears its terrible testimony to the suffer- 
ings of Christians. Every cause, every reason, every 
pretext, was laid hold of to quicken or renew the 
persecutions. If a plague fell upon the city, if defeat 
discomfited the Roman legions in the battle-field, if the 
Tiber was swollen a foot or two by sudden rains, e Bring 
out the Christians to the lions ! } was the order of the 
day. Our great martyrologist, Foxe, reviews that 
period at some length. It forms the suitable beginning 
to his great and world-famed book, which is, for the 
evenings of this course, to supply us with most of our 
studies and reflections. 

Biographical notes of Fbxe were added, and mention 
made of the sanction accorded by Convocation to his 
' Book of Martyrs ' a copy of which was ordered to be 
placed in every church and in every episcopal residence 
in England. ' And why,' it was asked, ' should we not 
enforce this order on both Bishops and Clergy in these 
days ? ' 

Altogether, my previous good opinion of Mr Maguire, 
as a controversial preacher or lecturer, was more than 
revived by this introduction. Broad Churchman as I 
may be called, un-Protestant as I am bound to be, still 
a little tilt with the dogmatists is wonderfullv attractive 


and invigorating sometimes, and there was a real old 
Roundhead smack about this lecture ; so much so, that 
I was even induced to attend a discourse on a second 
evening, when fate led me to penetrate the unattractive 
regions of Bagnigge Wells in the midst of an awful fog. 
All was bright at St James's. The congregation was 
still large, though, for evident reasons, not quite of such 
proportions as on the previous occasion. In the first 


place, Clerkeriwell is not quite the place one would 
select for a walk during a fog ; and then, again, it is in 
the nature of things that enthusiasm should subside. 
The Protestant young men, however, were note-taking 
with unabated energy, and Mr Maguire had now got well 
into his subject. Having given a clear resume of the 
Three Centuries of Persecution, he proceeded to show 
how, after Christianity became the established faith of 
the Empire, ' the sword only changed hands ; from 
Caesar it passed to the Pontiff, and the suicidal policy 
was adopted of Christian hands shedding Christian 
blood/ Contemporaneously came a declension from the 
faith of the Gospel which had been kept pure under the 
stress of persecution. The Church grew luxurious under 
patronage. It is true of communities as of individuals ; 
the bitter tonic of persecution is preferable to the 
luscious draughts of prosperity. 

Then he proceeded to show how having sheathed 
the sword of controversy the Church entered into a 
series of compromises with the heathen world. Then, 
as now, the Church was perverted. The salt began to 
lose its savour. It followed thus in the wake of the 
Church of Israel, and the defection was twofold. There 
was a declension both in the way of faith and doctrine, 
but, greater even than this, in the way of outward wor- 
ship. This tendency towards external objective adoration 
was an ever-present temptation. Human nature always 
gravitates, he said, towards sensuous worship, and 
against this both the Old and New Testament are equally 
strong. From the worship of external objects, the 
Church passed to the demi-god system of Lords many 
and Gods many. Image-worship, the worship of relics 
and of the dead, were among its earliest symptoms. 
But with the first dawn of error came the first protest ; 
came the reaffirmation of the old faith. Hereupon 
followed a spirited and minutely detailed account of the 
controversy between Vigilantius and Jerome, both of 
whom, the lecturer said, were head and shoulders above 
their fellows ; one in defending the old faith, the other 
the new state of things. The discipline of celibacy 


followed ; tapers began to be burnt in broad daylight ; 
shrines were venerated, and monastic institutions 
organized. There was a strong undergrowth of error ; 
but. the Cottian Alps became filled with the seeds of 
Vigilantius, and are bearing fruit to the present day. 

Such are only shreds and patches of a series of lectures 
which can scarcely with greater fairness be taken as 
samples of the whole, than the brick which, in the old 
joke-book, the man carried about as a specimen of a 
house he wanted to sell, could be regarded as a fair 
sample of the edifice. 

Surely, whatever we may think of the principles being 
advocated, this is the fair and manly way of standing up 
for them. There is another man, at quite the opposite 
pole of religious thought, of whom I have spoken laugh- 
ingly, but whom I honour for his pluck in defending by 
the historical method what I, of course, believe to be an 
untenable position. I mean Father Ignatius. Mr 
Maguire would have us all good, hard-headed Protest- 
ants like himself. Mr Lyne thinks we ought to affiliate 
the Benedictine system on Anglicanism. Can anything* 
be more delightfully evidential as to the comprehensive- 
ness of our Establishment than the fact that both these 
gentlemen hold Anglican orders, and have officiated in 
the metropolis beneath the very nose of the Bishop of 
London and the Archbishop of Canterbury contempo- 
raneously ? That is not to our actual purpose, though 
the fact of such variety alone makes possible our present 
series of papers. What one rather wishes to urge is the 
perfect legitimacy of this aggressive Christianity in a 
Church system where private judgment is an ingredient. 
As Broad Churchmen, of course we don't ' aggress ' 
anybody; but if I should ever want to ''aggress-' any 
one courteously but completely, I would attend any 
number of Protestant lectures at St James's, Clerken- 
well, and strive that a double portion of Mr Maguire' s 
spirit might rest upon me. . 

It would not be giving a fair summary of Mr Maguire' s 
different modes of influence did one omit to mention 
that he is a poet as well as a Protestant controversialist. 


To .an outsider there does not seem much, in common 
between poetry and aggressive Christianity. ' No 
Popery ' seems antagonistic to Parnassus. Two gaily- 
bound little volumes published (need it be said?) 
by Messrs Seeley, Jackson, and Halliday attest the 
fertility of Mr Maguire's muse ; and the fact that an 
edition of a thousand of each was exhausted beforehand 
by subscription among his congregation shows that he 
does not, pipe in vain or ' waste his sweetness on the 
desert air/ ' Lyra Evangelica' consists mainly of poems 
on Scriptural subjects, one series being ' Footsteps of 
Jesus/ another ' The Parables of our Lord/ The other 
volume is of a mixed character, and is entitled ' Sighs 
and Songs of Earth/ No room can be found for a re- 
view in these pages. Let it suffice to have enrolled 
Maguire among the poets ! 


T has been too much the fashion to suppose that, while 
sects have each one their own particular feature of 
interest and shade of colour, the Church of England is 
simply colourless and uninteresting : just as Mr Lowe, 
in accounting for the want of coherence in the Liberal 
party, laid it down that Conservatism was stagnation 
and there was, he said, only one way of standing still, 
while there were infinitely varying methods of ' moving 
on/ Unless I greatly mistake, however, we shall find 
within the comprehensive walls of ' the Church of Eng- 
land as by law established/ quite as much complexity, 
quite as delicate nuances, as in . any, or amongst all, 
religious bodies. In fact, an objection from the other 
side .tells us that the complications are too many, and 
the differences of parties too internecine, for us to pre- 


dicate unity of their aggregation; and when we speak 
of the Church of England, facetious outsiders derisively 
ask 'which Church of England?' An honest and ap- 
preciative examination of these different shades of faith 
and practice may possibly have the effect of assuring 
us that they are no more than might be expected as 
evidences of vitality ; that they are, in fact, only analo- ' 
gous to Mr Lowe's different methods of ' moving on ; ' 
and that we may still, notwithstanding, fearlessly and 
unhesitatingly pronounce the accustomed words of our 
grand old symbolum ' I believe in one Catholic and 
Apostolic Church/ 

If any one were inclined to question the characteristic 
of the Church of England as a living power in society, 
he could scarcely do better than pay a visit to St Paul's 
or Westminster Abbey, whether at an ordinary serv- 
ice or when some great preacher such as Canon Lid- 
don in the one case, or Dean Stanley in the other is to 
preach. In the vast throngs which then crowd the 
aisles he would see, in the form of an object-lesson, as 
it were, the best argument in favour of the Church of 
England in general, and the cathedral system in particu- 
lar. It is a stock objection of outsiders that the Church 
is only ' respectable/ and the attendance of worshippers 
mostly perfunctory. Better give back the cathedrals 
to the Catholics meaning the Roman Catholics say 
they ; you don't know what to do with them. They 
want them for their big processions, such as they had 
down at St Edmund's College, Ware, the other day, 
when the Archbishop of Westminster opened the 
' Fourth Provincial Synod of Westminster/ Let such 
detractors absent themselves one single Sunday from 
the special attractions of Mr Spurgeon's tabernacle, or 
their own particular conventicle, whatever it may be, 
and fairly appraise the congregations that gather in those 
two great foci of metropolitan devotion, the Abbey and 
St Paul's. They will see that the Church is not dead, 
or even sleeping. Dormant it may have been. I can 
remember when a service at either of these places was 
a soporif erous thing enough ; when the lay vicars lolled 


about in the most undevotional way, the choristers open- 
ly played their { little games' during service, and the 
clergy softly be it spoken did not set them a particu- 
larly good example of reverence in the House- of God. 
I myself recollect sitting close to the singing-men one 
day, and distinctly hearing the alto sing to the tenor, 

instead of the verse in the psalm, the words, ' A , 

I've got a fine Cheshire cheese at home. Come with me 
after service and taste it/ But all this is changed, thanks 
to such men as Dean Stanley, Canon Gregory, &c. Not 
only are the services at our metropolitan cathedral and 
abbey perfect as specimens of musical art, but as 
examples of reverent and devout worship and, what is 
more to the purpose, they are thoroughly appreciated as 
such by vast masses of worshippers, drawn from 'all 
sorts and conditions of men.' Never, perhaps, was the 
true ideal of Catholic worship more thoroughly realized, 
for the poor man and the peer sit side by side; the fine 
lady with her jewels, and the poor seamstress in her 
scanty Sunday best, are equally well cared for by the 
courteous attendants. 

Finding that Dean Stanley was to preach on the 
Sunday after the Bishop of Winchester's funeral, I went 
betimes to the abbey, knowing by experience the 
crowds that were accustomed to gather on such occasions, 
but I really was not prepared for the scene that awaited 
me. The cold gray stone of the magnificent Gothic 
arches contrasted gratefully with the glare of the July 
sun outside, which stole in, subdued and softened, 
through the deep colours of the ' storied windows/ A 
solemn funeral- march marked the entrance of the clergy 
and choir, and the whole service was of a chastened 
character, the plaintive De Profundis forming one of the 
psalms of the day. The anthem was the appropriate 
one of Handel, ' When the ear heard him, then it 
blessed him/ <fec. 

After the third Collect, Dean Stanley ascended the 
pulpit, and read in his sonorous voice from MS. a long- 
sermon, mainly on the subject of Bishop Wilberforce's 
death, though glancing incidentally also at that of Lord 


Westbury. The Dean took as Ms text the 27th verse, 
1st chap. 2 Samuel, ' How are the mighty fallen, and 
the weapons of war perished ! ' After alluding to the 
circumstances under which this lamentation over Saul 
and Jonathan was uttered by the Psalmist, he remarked 
that it was a dirge which had become the model of all 
like lamentations. Its strains had been wedded to the 
immortal music of the Dead March of Saul, which since 
the days of Handel had always been associated with the 
departure of illustrious Englishmen ; and the words of 
the text were inscribed in Latin over the door of the 
chapel which contained the ashes of the Spanish Cid 
e Quomodo ceciderunt fortes ! ' It was the expression of 
true patriotic instinct which binds a nation together, 
and calls each one of us to feel pride in the gifts and 
graces of those of our most famous countrymen with 
whom we had the least connection, and . with whom 
perhaps we might have been in perpetual conflict. It 
described also, in language as true as pathetic, the shock 
with which we received the tidings of the tragical close 
of any brilliant or eventful life. It was a song that 
sanctioned and sanctified the irrepressible instinct of the 
human heart, which at such a solemn moment refused 
to speak of the dead anything but that which was good. 
Of the great lawyer who has gone from us, said the 
preacher, this is not the occasion to say more than a 
very few words. To those who feel the majesty of 
human law, to those who know the divinity of that 
justice which guards alike the humble wants of the poor 
and needy and him that hath no helper, and also the 
eager struggles of the soul after spiritual truth and 
freedom, it can never be a matter of indifference when 
the Most High sends to this earth or takes away from 
it one of those keen intellects which burst through the 
entanglements of prejudice and the mists of passion in 
common life, and by whom crooked ways are made 
straight, and the false is shrivelled up and passes away 
like a scroll of parchment when it is rolled together. 
But of the great Churchman whom the nation deplores 
it is impossible not to speak more at length within these 




walls, in the presence of those to whom his face, his 
voice, his every look and tone, were so familiar as almost 
to form a part of our existence. Over this abbey he 
presided for a short time in the early days of his famous 
career. Many a time and oft within these walls his 
eloquence has touched the hearts of thousands. Beneath 
the floor of this church lie the remains of his yet more 
illustrious father, in a grave which, but for overruling 
family affection, would have contained his own at this 
moment. In the awful suddenness of his departure 
there is something, even without going beyond the 
event itself, that cannot but strike the most careless. 
The stroke of death, which came in the very midst of 
life, has, as by a lightning flash, transfigured with a 
preternatural vividness the whole course and character 
of the departed. The wide-sweeping cataract of nbi- 
quitous vitality has been checked midway in its head- 
long course. That figure which stood confronting us at 
the end of almost every avenue and prospect of public 
and social life has disappeared from our gaze. Those 
bright and keen weapons of war, which made his 
opponents feel that in him they had found a 'foernan 
worthy of their steel 3 

' Experto credite, quantus 
In clypeum assurgat, quo turbine torqueat hastam,' 

have crumbled into dust. The spirit of boundless 
energy has passed from the very height and fulness of 
earthly existence into the unseen spiritual world; has 
passed, if I may so apply the sacred words as they were 
applied in the last week by one who was all but a 
witness of the fatal catastrophe has passed away in a 
moment, in the twinkling of an eye, as at the last 
trump. On the personal graces and accomplishments 
of the departed it is not for a comparative stranger to 
dwell, nor to intermingle with the grief which, wrings 
the heart of many a mourning friend at this moment 
over a loss which, to them, is beyond repair. Of his 
opinions it will be useless on this occasion to say a 
single word ; of the complex result of that marvellous 


mixture, as of many men's personalities in one ; of the 
various aspects thus presented to those who viewed his 
course most nearly ; of its ultimate effects on the 
spiritual development of the English Church history 
must judge at leisure. We are not here to-day to 
criticize, but to learn. We are here not to condemn or 
be condemned, but to be instructed, to be touched, to 
be elevated to those spheres where no jarring thoughts 
will intrude, and where, speaking as in the palace of 
truth, we could speak only of the incontestable and the 
indestructible, What was there, then, in his career as 
a Churchman which has an enduring value beyond all 
questions of opinion or party, and beyond all analysis 
of motives ? There was, first, deep planted in him a 
sense of the grandeur of the profession of an English 
clergyman. This was quite irrespective of any views 
which he might have held for or against the sacerdotal . 
or sacramental virtue of the clerical order. It was 
something far deeper, wider, higher. It was the con- 
sciousness that the English Church and the ministry of 
the English Church were institutions reaching far down 
into the vitals of our constitution and our welfare, em- 
bracing all the elements of our domestic, political, and 
social life. To this consciousness, no doubt, his own 
extraordinary geniality and versatility gave wings and 
feet and hands; but, from whatever cause, it enabled 
him to combine, as in one focus, all the characteristics 
and capacities with which God had so richly endowed 
him. It enabled him to regard the ecclesiastical office, 
not as do many gifted men of our day, with contempt 
or indifference, but with pride and affection. He repre- 
sented, as in a visible shape, the conspicuous, many-sided 
character of the English Church, and which every 
national Church ought to seek for itself. When we 
admire this in him, we claim it as the heritage of the 
Church itself. When we recall the innumerable points 
at which he touched the circle of intellectual and social 
interests, we see as in a figure the richness and variety 
of the gifts which the English Church must absorb if 
it would hope to maintain its influence. We see in the 


general admiration bestowed on this aspect of his course 
the pledge and assertion that, for all such gifts, for all 
such manifestations of eloquence, grace, and knowledge, 
the great ecclesiastical order ought to find a place if it 
is to hold its own among the ruling powers that guide 
mankind. The world in our day is sometimes tempted 
to regard the clerical profession as too narrow and too 
insignificant to be worthy of national concern or world- 
wide interest. The Church of our day has been some- 
times tempted to regard the mighty gifts of genius, 
prudence, common sense, patriotism, and wide knowledge 
as too secular to be worthy of a spiritual man or a spiritual 
order. Such was not the view either on the one side or 
the other by which alone the admiration of a course like 
that which has now been closed can in any degree be 
justified or explained. If the Church of England is to 
be a civilized Church, and not a barbarian sect; if it is 
to be ruled by a reasonable religion and not by a false 
superstition then, and then only, it can draw wisdom 
and strength from such ecclesiastics as him whom all 
parties now unite in deploring. Further, this hold on 
the vast outer world and on the general policy of the 
Church was in him united with an undeviating and 
punctual fulfilment of all those laborious duties which 
his Episcopal functions imposed upon him ; rather, I 
would say, which his own magnificent conception of 
what the Episcopal office should be, created for him. 
Keen as was his perception, insatiable as was his enjoy- 
ment of the intellectual and social pleasures which were 
open to him in an unusual degree, partly through his 
great historic position, but yet more through his own 
unbounded receptivity, and his own inexhaustible en- 
dowments; yet in spite of those distractions, and not- 
withstanding those temptations, he devoted himself to 
the tedious details of administration, lent himself to the 
incessant calls on his time, patience, and judgment, ever 
increasing in proportion to the growth of his fame and 
usefulness, as though he had no other occupation or 
concern. Indefatigable, with the indefatigability which 
has sometimes been called the sure sign of genius ; filled 


with that strong sense of public obligation which belongs 
to every genuine Englishman; transformed, shall we 
not venture to say, with something of that loftier 
spiritual inspiration which to him was almost a birth- 
right, and which blended itself inextricably with the 
lights and shades of his manifold character, he employ e,d 
his singular gifts and penetrating influence in the service 
of the humblest of his curates and the homeliest of the 
parishes under his charge, as unsparingly, as cheerfully, 
as effectively, as on behalf of the highest in the land. 
When he turned his face towards his diocese, then, in 
the language of the ordination service, he ' drew all his 
studies that way.' Perhaps it was that the office of an 
English Bishop grew, as it were, under his hand almost 
into a new institution. His example became, perforce, 
contagious. No Bishop, no clergyman, we might almost 
say no layman, within his reach, could stand still with- 
out feeling the touch, the stimulus, the magic atmosphere 
of an activity which could neither rest itself, nor, as has 
been well said, suffer those around him to rest. No 
doubt, in this respect, he was but one instrument among 
many in the work of reanimating a slumbering Church. 
He inherited the forces of that religious movement, 
which, beginning with Wesley in the last century, was 
continued, in all the simplicity of Christian zeal, in his 
father's home at Clapham. In that fresh re-invigora- 
tion of the Episcopal office other prelates now gone to 
their reward had preceded him iu the conscientious and 
laborious discharge of hitherto unpractised duties. 
Others, still living, have followed him with an energy 
no less vigilant and even more self-denying. But it was 
reserved for his splendid gifts to crown this course with 
a halo of its own which once kindled can never be 
extinguished. This is a part of his example which, 
alike from its homeliness and its brilliancy, all of us, 
however remote from ecclesiastical affairs, however 
differing, whether from his means or his ends, can 
appreciate and admire. It derives also an additional 
solemnity from the reflection that he laboured thus in- 
cessantly, with a constant and an increasing forethought 


of the sudden end which at last came in so unlooked-for 
a form. ' I must work the works of Him that sent me 
while it is day. The night cometh, when no man can 
work.' And night has come upon him as on the sun 
in the tropics. There was no twilight ; no preparation. 
It may come to each of us in like manner : may it find 
us, as it found him, working and watching. His life 
was a glorification of industrious work ; his death was 
the seal set upon it. 

Of the details of that work there is one point upon 
which I may be allowed to dwell for a moment ; because 
it is drawn from our own experience in this place, and 
because it applies with special force to one particular 
portion of my hearers. It is the custom of this abbey, 
in consequence of the peculiar independence of its 
ecclesiastical position, that when a confirmation is held 
for the Westminster scholars, the dean selects some 
bishop, formerly connected with Westminster, to ad- 
minister the sacred rite. It has been my lot for nine 
successive years, with one exception, to request on these 
occasions the aid' of the departed Bishop, both because 
he once ruled as chief officer over this body, and also 
because of the singular and surpassing grace with which 
he discharged this particular function. The confirma- 
tion office, as thus administered amongst us, was gradu- 
ally moulded through his influence, and it was in order 
to consecrate the effect of his presence in those who 
came to be confirmed, and to bring them more directly 
within the thrilling tones of that sweet silvery voice, 
sinking on those occasions into a familiar conversation 
or solemn whisper, that the service was transferred from 
its ordinary place in the choir to the chapel of King 
Henry VII. And there year by year the successive 
generations of Westminster scholars heard the words 

a therly counsel from these marvellous lips, which 
never spoke with more gracious simplicity and unaffected 
pathos than in those addresses. The slightest hint 
conveyed to him a moment before would be caught up 
and transformed into some striking figure or precept 
that could never be forgotten. The advice, the warn- 


ings, the consolations, though always on the same 
subject, were always varied, always fresh as from the 
( womb of the morning/ You, my young hearers, who 
three weeks ago knelt in that chapel to receive his 
"benediction, will remember in future years that you 
hea.rd on that now memorable occasion the parting ad- 
monitions of one of England's most famous prelates. 
May you reflect even now, in the days of your youth, 
that it was the inspiring sight of your young faces, the 
peculiar interest awakened in him by the trials, the influ- 
ence, the tenderness, the innocence of boys at school, 
that were the means of drawing forth from that most 
eloquent son of a most eloquent father words and argu- 
ments more persuasive, more affecting, and therefore 
more truly eloquent, than any that were ever heard from 
his mouth either by the lesser or the greater congrega- 
tion. Upon you he poured forth all that was in him of 
his nobler and finer nature. Be it yours to bear it away 
as his latest legacy from this glorious abbey, which he 
so dearly loved, and which delights to rank his name 
among the most brilliant of those who have presided 
over its destinies. And now, in concluding, amidst the 
uncertainty and insecurity of all judgment formed under 
the shock of such a catastrophe, one thing is absolutely 
certain : the shock has left a blank, and has opened a 
void which cannot bufc be felt in a greater or less degree 
through the coming fortunes of the whole of English 
Christendom. In the public meeting, in the religious 
assembly, in the social gathering, one face will be looked 
for that now will be seen no more; one voice that 
charmed all hearers is for ever silent ; and not only so, 
but an existence is extinguished which was the chief 
stimulating or retarding force of almost every movement 
of ecclesiastical policy. New necessities, new duties, 
new opportunities for good crowd into the vacant space ; 
and of the weapons by which the war or the peace of 
the Church has been maintained for the last thirty years, 
not a few, whether spear or sword or bow, are buried 
with him in his grave. It was said by one who loved 
him dearly and knew him well when he left his first 


episcopate f The romance of the diocese is gone ! ' 
The same in a large and more varied sense may be said 
now that he has left us altogether. The romance, the 
conflict, the dramatic interest, the multifarious excite- 
ment, the trumpet's silver call, the phosphoric, electric 
atmosphere, the iron sharpening iron, the magic of dis- 
solving views all these are gone : we have turned over 
a fresh leaf in the history of the English Church. It is 
for those who remain to weigh well what are the charac- 
ters which should be written on its future pages. We 
have been warned in various tones that such as he was 
is not likely again to paint or adorn the tale of our 
eventful annals. It may well be so ; for such a rare and 
at the same time such an intricate combination of quali- 
ties comes once in the age of a nation, and comes not 
again. ' The mighty are fallen, and the weapons of war 
are perished/ and no art or effort can recall or recon- 
struct them. Bat the materials out of which these 
weapons were forged, and the stage on which the heroes 
of the world and of the Church have acted, still continue, 
and will continue as long as goodness is to be promoted, 
as long as freedom is to be secured, as long as truth is to 
be vindicated, as long as selfishness, indolence, and 
falsehood have to be combated on the face of this dis-. 
tracted earth. In the weariness of life's struggles we 
are sometimes tempted to think, Blessed, thrice happy, 
are they that have fallen in the fulness of years and of 
honours, that have gone beyond the reach of miscon- 
struction, of failure, of temptation. Blessed, thrice 
blessed, to have passed at one bound from the midst of 
toilsome labours, arduous duties, and eager aspirations, 
into the presence of Him who knows whereof we are 
made, and in whose light we shall see light. Yet for 
those who are left behind in the dull wear and tear of 
those earthly scenes, there is a call that reverberates 
from the grave. True, there is not, nor will there be 
for many a year to come, one of like gifts with him who 
has now been removed, as neither was there for many a 
long year before. The race he ran is not yet over. 
England and the English Church have still a course 


before them, larger, wider, than any individual career. 
We know well that there have been in other times and 
countries revivals of religious life, not for good, but 
evil, or at least for very .mixed and partial good ; zeal 
without knowledge, life without light, faith without 
charity ; revivals not of living and eternal truths, but 
of ancient errors and dead superstitions. Let it be our 
aim and prayer that our departed brother shall not have 
laboured in vain in his efforts to reanimate this Church 
of England. Let our tribute to him be in the years 
that are coming that there shall be imparted to the 
future movements of the English Church an upward 
spirit that shall ever more and more direct our wander- 
ing efforts rightly, which shall lead us even through the 
valley of the shadow of death to the green pastures and 
beside the waters of comfort. Let us remember that 
the true and only purpose of every religious institution, 
and of every religious revival, is to make earth like 
heaven, and man like Jesus Christ. Let us remember 
that the glory of the clergy is not to set themselves 
apart as a separate caste, but to make themselves one 
with their fellow-countrymen and fellow -Christians. 
Let us remember that the chiefest and noblest weapons 
of war with which error can be subdued are those which 
are forged, heated, and burnished in the furnace of un- 
flinching inquiry, of absolute love of truth, of unshrink- 
ing and unswerving sincerity, wielded with discrimin- 
ating forbearance, strict impartiality, and boundless 
charity. Let us not seek to exterminate differences, 
for differences are the essence and fruits of life, but' to 
prevent differences from becoming divisions. Let us 
be sure that in every effort to enlarge our borders, to 
open our gates, to retain whatever there is of true and 
holy among ourselves, and to welcome whatever there 
is of true and holy among our estranged brethren, is the 
strength of a Church whose boast it is that it is the 
Church of England, the Church of the Eeformation, the 
Church of Him who said, ' When I am lifted up I will 
draw all men unto myself/ and who also said, ' Him 
that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out/ 


Many members of both Houses of Parliament were 
present at this service ; and the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, not robed, but simply as a member of that mighty 
congregation, occupied a stall next to the Dean. As 
we filed slowly out to the majestic strains of Handel's 
Dead March in 8 aid, the most unimpassioned must have 
felt his soul stirred within him, and may have learned 
to his profit the same lesson that was taught even more 
solemnly still by that open grave in the quiet Sussex 
churchyard, that there is more of real pathos in the 
simple ritual of the Church of England, properly carried 
out, than in all the meretricious adjuncts of the costliest 
spectacle ever presided over by a master of the cere- 


one of our ancestors were suddenly to start into re- 
animation, he might, on certain Sundays in the year, 
fancy that the old glories of Paul's Cross had continued 
undimmed to the present day. He might even deem 
those ancient splendours enhanced as he saw the Metro- 
politan District Railway disgorge its laden trains at 
Blackfriars to hear Canon Liddon preach ; for it is of 
his period of. residence at St Paul's we speak. This 
preacher gained what is for most of us an unenviable 
notoriety by delivering sermons of an hour and a quar- 
ter in length ; but the strangest phenomenon of all was 
that he got people to listen to him- got vast congrega- 
tions to sit at St James's, Piccadilly, and actually wish 
there was more coming, instead of hailing the ascription 
as a relief. I saw Canon Liddon advertised to preach 
under the dome at St Paul's one Sunday no smaller 
area is capable of accommodating his congregation and 
determined I would take him as my representative man 


of the day. In a general way there can scarcely be im- 
agined a greater contrast than Fleet Street on a Sunday 
and Fleet Street on a week-day. For six days the tide 
of life goes ebbing and flowing without pause, but Sun- 
day is generally dead calm. The very press-men do not 
make their appearance until people are well in church at 
their morning or evening devotions. Then, in the for- 
mer case, the luxurious leader-writers, in the latter the 
night-working owls of sub-editors, surge up to the sur- 
face. But for these, Sunday would be a breathless calm 
in Blackfriars ; but Canon Liddon makes a very palpable 
ripple on the surface when he is the afternoon preacher 
at Paul's Cross. 

Studiously avoiding to use my privileges, either as a 
journalist or a clergyman, by pushing to the front seats, 
I determined I would go in with the crowd to St Paul's 
that Sunday afternoon, and see whether I could analyze 
its component parts, and in any way test the effect of 
the Canon's sermon on them. Sitting beneath the shade 
of Samuel Johnson's monument, I saw gathered before 
me one of those vast seas of human beings which it is so 
exceptional for a preacher to get together without mere- 
tricious aid of some kind. There were large numbers 
of ladies, old, young, and more middle-aged, of course ; 
but the female element was far from being so largely in 
the ascendant as we often see it in congregations. There 
were young men from shopmen and City clerks to 
West-end " blood" and grayheaded men of all ages 
and classes. Clergymen abounded, coming in many of 
them late, like myself, and evidently hurrying thither 
after a long morning service to take a lesson in pulpit 
oratory, or simply to enjoy the unaccustomed luxury of 
being preached to. Inflexible spinsters tried to occupy 
two or three chairs each, and gave infinite trouble to the 
gigantic gentleman in spectacles acting as an amateur 
iSuisse de cathedrale, and his attendant vergers, who 
flitted about in gowns and silver maces, and did their 
best politely to pack that huge gathering. 

The Psalms, 1 regret to say, were being sung as I en- 
tered ; but it was ' duty/ and not inclination, that had 


broken in upon my habitual and inherent punctuality. 
Very sweetly did the cadences come from the large sur- 
pliced choir, and seem to roll from side to side of the 
peopled nave as the congregation took up their verses 
antiphonally. Then a venerable gentleman, with long 
white beard, read the lessons from a lofty eagle in the 
centre of the space under the dome. I had thought it 
would be impossible for him to make himself audible, but 
he did so with apparent ease by pitching his voice in a 
high key in fact, almost monotoning the words of Holy 
Scripture. There was great .reverberation, but I should 
think every one heard. The anthem was the exquisite 
one from Elijah, ' If with all your hearts you truly seek 
Him, ye shall ever surely find Him ; ' and as I listened, 
spell-bound, to the touching solo, or the soft and chast- 
ened chorus with which it was supplemented, I could 
not but think of the dead master-musician who had been 
moved to tears there where I was sitting, when he heard 
the little charity children sing their simple melodies 
at their annual gathering, reminding one of Keble's 
beautiful lines : 

' Childlike though the voices be, 

And tuitunable the parts, 
Thou wilt own the minstrelsy, 
If it flow from childlike hearts.' 

I can remember the time when a service at St PauPs 
was a very dreary, and, withal, a somewhat slovenly 
performance ; but some good genius has waved his wand 
over the arrangements,' and simply but effectually 
changed all that. The sermon was preached, not after 
the third Collect, as is customary in many cathedrals, 
but in the more usual place, at the conclusion of evening 
prayers. The pulpit is at the south-eastern portion of 
the vast circumference, and is surmounted by a huge but 
somewhat tawdry-looking sounding-board, supported 
from on high by a chain so slender as to give it the ap- 
pearance of being likely to fall and crush any incautious 
preacher who should give way to extra enthusiasm in 
his discourse. There was no hymn or pause of any kind 


between the prayers and sermon; which was unfortunate, 
not only because an opportunity was lost of utilizing 
that splendid choir, but also because it obliged the 
preacher to leave his stall and mount the pulpit while 
the prayer of St Chrysostom was being read ; but we 
scarcely noticed the incongruity. We had emphatically 
come to ( hear Canon Liddon, 3 as the Clapham people 
speak of going to church, and our Chrysostom was now 
in his pulpit. His sharp-cut, shaven, and monastic- 
looking face peered out wistfully over the great as- 
sembly ; and in a voice slightly forced, but quite audible, 
and with the unmistakable accent of a quondam aca- 
demic ' don, 3 he gave out as his text the two opening 
verses of the Parable of the Unjust Steward the Epis- 
tle for the day : c There was a certain rich man which 
had a steward; and the same was accused unto him that 
he had wasted his goods. And he called him, and said 
unto him, " How is it that I hear this of thee ? Give an 
account of thy stewardship; for thou naayest be no 
longer steward." ' 

First of all, the preacher noticed how this parable, like 
that of the Unjust Judge, was probably taken from some 
event in the current history of Palestine, and how vivid 
and effective such a circumstance would make the teach- 
ing if the hearers were well acquainted with the details. 
He then passed rapidly in review the familiar points of 
the story as one of ' clever rascality/ and showed how 
our Lord only reported, without endorsing, the commend- 
ation of the landlord. Probably the steward had a 
legal, though not a moral, right thus to tamper with his 
master'' s rental ; but the approval of the master consti- 
tuted what we might reverently describe as the surprise 
of the parable. We should expect the master to be 
angry, and so, no doubt, he would have been had he been 
an English landlord ; but the course he took was just 
what we should expect to find taken in the East now. 
The Oriental mind is struck, not by right or wrong-, but 
by audacity and success ; by a triumph of force or cun- 
ning. If not absolutely ruined by it, he would, as an 
Eastern, admire this stroke of clever rascality ; and this 


touch had mudi to do in making critics believe the story 
a real one. 

The point enforced by this commendation was the 
necessity of prudence in matters that touched the soul. 
We must practically recognize two obvious truths. I. 
Every human being is simply a trustee. From the Queen 
down to the poorest person this is true ; there is no such 
thing as human ownership. This seemed, Canon Liddon 
said, a mere truism ; but all our gifts were either in- 
herited or earned ; and in the first instance we did not 
give the energy of acquisition to those who bequeathed 
them to us, or in the second we did not give ourselves 
the strong arm or active brain by which we had earned 
them. Life itself was a gift. We were still only 
stewards. How little we made of this truth ! We spoke 
as if God was bound first to make us, and then to give 
us what we had ; as if we had substantive claims on God. 
Or else we complain that God had not done more for us, 
having done so much. The fundamental idea in our 
minds was, that as a matter of bare justice no one had 
claims on us. We transferred to our relations with God 
the privileges given us by human law. If we spoke out, 
we should say that, as God had rights in Beaven, so had 
we rights on earth. There were some cases as, for in- 
stance, that of landed property where men did recognize 
the fact of responsibility. It is not a mere possession of 
the owner, to do what he will. He holds it on trust for 
the poor, or for his country. His bit of land was naturally 
intended to support a certain population, and those rights 
were not set aside because that population were his 
tenants. If he cleared his land and sent the poor into 
some adjacent city, so as to lower his own rates, he 
would be condemned by the conscience of the country. 
This principle, like all truths, might be exaggerated 
and pushed to extremes ; but what was true of landed 
property in this country did apply in a certain degree 
to property of all kinds, ' in the funds, in foreign funds 
in nobody knew what funds. 5 We were still trustees. 
If we lost sight of this fact, we wasted goods which were 
not ours, but our Master's. This waste was ( one of the 


sad mysteries of God's moral creation/ and it kept pace 
curiously with His bounty, as the activity of error seemed 
to keep pace with the spread of truth. The waste of 
property was most palpable when the young heir squan- 
dered it on the turf or at the gambling-table ; but 
property was often wasted in a less ostentatious way 
as, for example, when a man spent all on himself, or 
hoarded his money as though he were going to keep it 
for ever. The man who did not make a conscience of 
what he had by giving a tenth, or some fixed proportion, 
to God and his fellow-men, was wasting it, because he 
was treating it as his own, and not as what would have 
to be accounted for at Christ's throne ; and this funda- 
mental error vitiated all his use of it. Then there was 
the waste of mental gifts ; for genius and talent were the 
same as money under this aspect. Having sharpened 
his wits by education, a man thought he might do as he 
liked with them, and wrote in ' clever newspapers ' or 
periodicals which sacrificed morality to sensation. 
Flashes of genius were thus wasted, because nothing 
was done for the glory of God or the progress of the 
human soul. Talent was given for one supreme end, 
and that end was God's glory. 

There was the waste of influence, too : the power 
given to all of us of guiding others. It was wasted by 
indolence, timidity, or seeking* popularity instead of 
truth. Fathers of families, heads of establishments, 
chief servants, teachers, clergymen, Bishops, and Arch- 
bishops all these had a great account to give. All 
which they might do fell within the area of their re- 

Greate-r still was the waste of grace. It does not tell, 
like property or ability; and therefore, walking by sight 
and not by faith, as we did, we were apt to think less of 
it. But it was incomparably greater than money or 
talent. It cost more, and could do more. It was 
earned by Christ's Blood. It touched not our material 
life, but our real selves ; not this world, but the next. 
How piteous was the waste of opportunity in reference to 
prayer, instruction, the sacraments ! Each opportunity 


was a property. Of such we were stewards ; and what 
such stewardship involved we should only know here- 

Incidentally we might speak of the waste of health 
and time. Even sickness itself was sometimes an 
opportunity. f l would not for all the world/ said a 
great sufferer who had led a 'careless life, 'suffer one 
pang less than I have for the last five months/ But 
health was God's best gift. Time was charged with 
irrevocable opportunities. Time, said a great Christian 
writer, should be made the most of every hour, as men 
sip a liqueur, drop by drop. No life could be wasted 
with impnnity ; for as waste proceeded on earth, it was 
being pleaded as an accusation before the Lord of Life 
in the courts of heaven. 

II. A time would come, said the preacher, when an 
account would be demanded. It was not always the 
life that was taken. The literary man who had sacrificed 
truth to sensation might lose his sight. The waster of 
property found himself a pauper. The abuser of power 
saw that power collapse, and become a byword for moral 
impotence. Now and then there was a pause in the 
history of the world, as if for us to see the withdrawal 
of great endowments, brought about by what was called 
the force of events. Five times in the present century 
had it thus been said to France, ' Give an account of 
thy stewardship.' So was it with Solomon in the lesson 
of the day. He was humbled, yet spared. It was a 
mercy when God thus withdrew His gifts, but left time 
for repentance. In view of this last account it might be 
better to end life at St Helena than at the Tuileries. 

But the call to account was not always merely one to 
retirement. Men were often summoned to appear before 
the throne. We had been solemnly reminded of late 
about these swift passages from bustling life to the still- 
ness of the presence-chamber. We might be sitting in 
the last carriage of a train that got detached from the 

CJ t_J 

rest, nobody knew how. We might be cantering on 
our horse chatting to a friend, when, lo ! a slip from 
the saddle, and in a moment all was- over. The chasm 


that parted time from eternity was passed. He would 
not imply that sudden death was penal ; it was often 
the act of a peculiarly tender love. All depended on 
whether those who were so summoned were living in 
thoughts of death or not. It was impossible -not to 
think of that prelate who, one short month ago, had 
been administering one of our greatest dioceses ; and 
it was a comfort to know that he lived habitually in the 
prospect of death. When a friend, some short time 
since, was speculating about a bishopric, he said, ' Pro- 
bably I shall make the vacancy.' Those who only knew 
him in public scarcely guessed how he carried this idea 
into all the departments of life. Yet so it was ; and 
now there rose around his grave ' a chorus of encomium/ 
affirming that he above all others had taught what the 
stewardship which was committed to an English Bishop 
might mean. While we were seeking how to perpetuate 
his memory, it was impossible not to ask where was 
that keen inquisitive mind now ? It mattered little to 
him, said the eloquent preacher, with most solemn em- 
phasis, what we should do, now that he had seen the 
everlasting realities ; now that he had passed the thres- 
hold of the world, and gazed, as a spirit might gaze, on 
the face of Christ. If he could speak, he would say, 
what his life and death said, ' Be you who you may, you 
are stewards ; and the one thing is so to live that you 
may give account/ 

It had been said, he concluded, that public men were 
divisible into two classes : those who believed in the 
Bay of Judgment, and those who did not. That meant 
that some had a sense of responsibility which others 
lacked ; and the observation was true of all of us. All 
had a stewardship. And with the majority of us all 
would soon be over. In thoughts of death, and of the 
account after death, we learnt healthy views of life and 

The sermon occupied something less than an hour in 
delivery, and at its conclusion the Canon gave out, in 
simplest, homeliest fashion, the hymn, ' When morning 
gilds the skies/ which was sung by the choir in a way 


to make us regret that metrical hymns are not more 
usual in cathedrals. 

As I passed out and saw the crowds filing from each 
separate door, I could not but recognize the fact that, 
with all our advance since the days of Paul's Cross, 
preaching might be still a great power amongst us, and 
the pulpit vie even with the press as an influential force 
on society. 


T SCARCELY know which is the more striking effect, 
JL that produced by the shining of a solitary light in 
the gloom of a Cathedral at night, or by the silence of a 
church in the midst of the noise and din of a great city. 
I once entered the nave of an English Cathedral during 
a winter's evening, when the sexton was digging a grave 
by the light of a solitary candle, and actually saw him 
shovel out a skull of some ancient canon or other 
dignitary, just like the grave-digger in e Hamlet ; ' and 
I know not how it is, but when I attend a City church, 
as I did on the first Tuesday in Lent at St Margaret's, 
Lothbury, I am conscious of a kindred sensation. There 
is a feeling of awe which it would be very difficult to 
analyze or explain. As I paced the busy thoroughfare 
of Moorgate Street from the Metropolitan Terminus to 
my destination, and by and by the bell of St Margaret's 
clashed noisily out above the din of traffic, there seemed 
something incongruous in the combination of sounds. 
It was the same when I entered the building, and heard 
the roll of waggons and omnibuses, which even double 
windows were unable to exclude. The stillness and 
solitude within seemed perfectly terrible in comparison 
with the noisy tide of life without. I had of course 
expected the silence, but I was not, I own, quite 


prepared for the solitude. I remembered what the 
Golden Lecture had been in the days of Henry Melvill, 
and how necessary it was to be in good time to get a 
seat. I recalled the unwonted spectacle of business-men 
leaving the receipt of custom to listen to the eloquent, 
even if somewhat stilted and artificial, periods of the 
celebrated preacher. I thought the mantle had fallen 
on his successor, the Rev. Daniel Moore; and it was 
with some surprise that, after something like a rush from 
the station, and only arriving about a quarter to eleven, 
I found the church virtually empty. A dilapidated 
verger, in a dress coat worn with age, was walking 
pensively about, and seemed really quite glad to see me, 
put me in a centre seat, and supplied me at two several 
journeys with prayer-book and hymnal. He seemed 
not to be happy except when walking about, did that 
ancient verger, ' and only comparatively so even then. 
He looked as though he had something on his mind; 
perhaps it was the memory of olden times, when the 
Golden Lecture, the Laurea.tesh.ip of the pulpit, was 
more attractive than now. He left me to the contem- 
plation of the sacred edifice, which, empty as it was, 
bore reference to better days, in the fact of numbers of 
now useless chairs being stacked on either side of the 
Communion Table, above which were portraits of, I 
fancy, Moses and Aaron, in garments which resembled 
gowns with high stomachers. By the time the bell 
ceased, there were, I was amazed to find, only fifteen in 
the congregation. Three of those, including myself, 
were parsons, and one a maiden aunt of my own, who, 
I believe, feels bound in conscience to attend every 
Evangelical week-day sermon preached within an access- 
ible radius 6f London. Most of the fifteen were gray- 
headed, and some dilapidated, like the verger. All were 
evidently Conservative and Evangelical to the very 

At eleven o'clock a procession of two emerged from 
the vestry. One was a bearded gentleman, arrayed in 
surplice only, which he seemed to have put on in a hurry, 
forgetting his hood and stole. The other was the 


Reverend Daniel Moore, in a M.A. gown, brown with 
age as the verger's coat itself. The surpliced gentleman 
mounted the second story of a portentous pulpit- erection, 
and Mr Moore subsided into a pew. The service was 
the reverse of ornate, there being no singing even at 
the ' Glorias/ and the reader still giving one the idea 
that he was pressed for time. One of the gray-headed 
gentlemen in the congregation took the responses, 
officiating as amateur clerk, while the dilapidated verger 
walked about like a wandering undertaker vexed with 
depression of business at a healthy time of the year. 

There was a little unobtrusive lectern at the foot of 
the pulpit staircase, and I fancied the reader would have 
read the Lessons from thence ; but he remained on the 
second Stage, and appeared to find the Hebrew names in 
the First Lesson Numbers x. rather obstacles to his 
progress. He threw more fire into the Second, and 
read the dialogue of Herodias and her daughter almost 
dramatically, but certainly well, showing how nicely 
the rest of the service might have gone if he had had 
more leisure at his command. In fact, if I may be 
allowed to anticipate, this was the idea uppermost in 
my mind all the time, what this Golden Lecture might 
be, and if might, surely should be. I could not help 
comparing the scanty gathering at St Margaret's with 
the crowds that thronged St Edmund the King's hard 
by, to hear the eccentric young Anglican monk, Ignatius, 
deliver himself. Surely, with such an endowment, 

/ ' ' 

the Golden Lectureship should draw business men as 
I know it did once draw them from their business by 
presenting them with an ideal service and sermon. If 
it does not do so if men are really so much more 
material than they were in Canon Melvill's time, then 
it suggests the further thought, why not transplant this 
lecture to the West ? Mr Moore would have got a 
congregation of ladies, at all events in his own 
church of Holy Trinity, Paddington. But I am digress- 
ing, and perhaps verging on criticism, which latter I 
am resolved to eschew, except so far as facts speak for 


When the service was over, I wondered whether we 
should be included in ' choirs and places where they 
sing/ We had not been after the third Collect ; but 
the impetuous gentleman carried us breathlessly on to 
the prayer of St Chrysostom before we knew where we, 
were. Then, however, he gave out the doleful hymn, 
'From lowest depths of woe/ which seemed vastly 
appropriate, however, and which the aged people sang 
with all the little twiddles and turns and passing notes,, 
as they always do in country churches. We were very 
primitive and behind the age that day in St Margaret's. 
I hope I am not wronging the organist; but I very 
much suspected that functionary of rushing in to play 
the De profundis for us, and decamping as soon as it was 
over. Mr Moore left the pew and retired to the vestry 
during the hymn, though he was arrayed in full acade- 
mical costume for the pulpit already. The only change 
which I could see he had effected was the removal of 
his gloves during* his absence. He then mounted the 
pulpit, and commenced the. first of a series of sermons 
on the Apocalyptic addresses to the seven Churches of 
Asia, which we were informed by printed notices in the 
church would be continued each Tuesday during Lent. 

That day was devoted to the Church of Ephesus ; and 
Mr Moore took for his text Rev. ii. 4 : f Nevertheless, I 
have somewhat against thee because thou hast left thy 
first love/ Referring to a previous course of sermons 
on the subject of the Church of Laodicea, the preacher 
said that all these addresses to the Asiatic Churches 
were very instructive to bodies of Christian worshippers, 
as showing how they were regarded by Him whose eyes 
were as a flame of fire, in whose hand were the seven 
stars, and who, to search the heart and test the sincerity, 
is ever walking amid the seven golden candlesticks. 
These messages varied in tone ; in some the elements 
of commendation prevailed, in others that of censure. 
In the Address to the Church of Ephesus there was 
much commendation. In no niggard spirit there was 
set forth what she had done and suffered; but still 
there was a great blot on the picture ; a ' huge fly } 


such was the peculiar imagery employed had made its 
way into the ointment of a good name. She had left 
her first love. Let us, he said, glance at her history. 
There were reasons why she should take a precedence 
of all the other Churches. Ephesus was the civil and 
ecclesiastical centre of the Asia of the Revelations. She 
was, as she liked to be termed, the e Light of Asia/ 
beyond Smyrna and Pergamos, and the other cities. 
She was distinguished, in a secular point of view, for her 
commerce, and for her Oriental and Greek culture. 
There was the temple of her tutelar goddess Diana. 
But she was more distinguished still under a Christian 
aspect. Thus Ephesus stood out conspicuously. Here 
it was St Paul laboured successfully for three whole 
years. So long a period of his mission life was given 
to this one place, and his success was attested by the 
fact of the sorcerers bringing their magical books and 
burning them. Here the number of converts awoke 
the selfish jealousy of Demetrius and his fellow-crafts- 
men. Here Timothy was ordained to the episcopate, 
and Apollos taught. Here, too, the beloved Apostle 
spent the last few years of his protracted life, when he 
had left Jerusalem to superintend the Asiatic Churches. 
Down as far as the second century her bishops had 
borne faithful witness to the truth; but from this point 
she had decayed, had gone from dark to dark, until she 
came to the un traceable blank and void. The glory 
passed away, and only few relics of her ancient Chris- 
tianity remained. Attempts had been made on the spot 
to gather some traces of her former success; .but in 
vain. Modern travellers told us that there were few 
Turks on the site of ancient Ephesus, and only one 
Christian ! A cloud had passed over the place. Green 
corn grew amid her ruins ; so truly had been fulfilled 
the words, ' I will come quickly, and will remove thy 
candlestick out of its place/ 

And' yet witness was borne to the self-denying efforts 
of the Ephesian Church. f l know thy works/ &c. 
The works are specified ; and they are those' common 
to the other messages. This, the preacher said, showed 


us tHat no act of self-denial, or resistance to sin, or 
eadeavour after higher life, passed unnoticed. Ephesus 
was not an idle Church, or an indifferent one, like 
Laodicea. The people were in earnest for the Gospel 
of Christ, and for the salvation of souls. What flaw or 
vituting element, then, was there ? We should see. 
' presently/ So far, it was enough for us to know that 
Godmight see our good works, and yet know that there 
was something faulty in them. Men might labour, 
migfo compass sea and land, might work night and day, 
might spend and be spent in a good cause, and yet not 
be actuated by a right spirit, even as the sons of 
Zebed^e when they would call down fire from heaven. 
The lesson was that zeal in a good cause, earnestness, 
devotelness, labours even to fainting, might be no 
more ttan ' an Ephesian grace/ Their practical Chris- 
tianity received honourable mention as far as it went ; 
but the commendation was neutralized by the words of 
the texi, ' Thou hast left thy first love/ 

The Ephesians were commended for their invincible 
patieno. They had not fainted under rebuke. They 
had no. given up heart and hope when there were 
enemies on every side. This was still a higher attain- 
ment thn the former, for it was easier to work than to 
forbear. Many had the lesson of sitting still to learn, 
and fornd the limits of a sick chamber the boundaries 
of theirmission-field. This was the advanced point of 
spiritua discipline to which Ephesus had attained. 

Agaii, there was a sensitiveness to all dishonouring 
companonships : ' I know how thou canst not bear them 
which ale evil/ Like testimony had been borne in the 
Epistle so the Ephesians ; and after thirty years the 
lesson hd not been forgotten altogether, but still once 
and agan the text was repeated she had f left her first 
love/ There was a righteous intolerance of false 
doctrine, a purging out of all teachers who did not 
hold ( tie truth as it is in Jesus/ and in keeping all liars 
out of tie apostolate. Such was the honourable testi- 
mony brne ; but before there was time for congratula- 
tion, alwas marred by the occurrence of the oft- quoted 


text, ' Thou hast left thy first love/ Hence, we could/ 
he said, see the signs and the source of religious de- 
clension in the alteration of religious affection, in tie 
leaving of the first love. Let us try how far this holds 
good with ourselves. 

I might mention that by this time the congregation 
had perhaps increased to thirty ; that all wore a stolid, 
resigned, rather than an interested appearance ; and 
that two of the clerical gentlemen had their eyes fast 
closed, whether in slumber or deep thought it is ncfc for 
me to determine. 

The preacher then described at length how, oa the 
early unity of the Christian Church, had ' grom up 
the evils Christ Himself had foretold divisions, aeart- 
burnings, jealousies. Men were no longer of one heart 
and one soul. They began to live for self, each paring 
only for himself and .his own. The same spirit narked 
religious declension now ; an isolation from the! Com- 
munion of Saints, a declining sympathy with th> trials 
of God's people, a decay of Intercessory Prayer, and 
diminished anxiety for souls, limiting spiritual efort to 
our own salvation. This was the great sign of baving 
first love a lessened interest in the spiritual wefare of 
others. Then, both in the case of the Epliesiais and 
ourselves, such leaving of the first love was evflenced 
by a cooling down of the soul's affection for* Christ 
Himself. The love of the first Christians for Chist was 
no barren feeling, but a sublime passion. It fas the 
ardour of consecrated enthusiasm. The love o\ Christ 
constraining him, sustained the Apostle in all he did. 
' Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee/ said Peter. 
' We love Him because He first loved us/ the Beloved 
disciple St John. 1 

He would ask, then, as far as we could recall fur first 
sensations, did not one of the earliest after coi^ersion 
take the form of personal love and gratitude bwards 
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ ? Had we ibt here 
a central object for faith, love, and joy, so that ~n could 
say, ' Whom not having seen, we love ? } Thisfeeling 
was deepened by many sacred memories, by rnaiy kind 


assurances in times of dejection and sorrow, by many 
deliverances from danger to our own souls. On the bed 
of sickness we felt Christ's sympathy. He stood by us 
in danger. If our heart was right we must love Him 
supremely, with all the freshness of first love. 

But how if our heart was not right ? We cared less 
to please Him. We had less delight in thinking of Him 
and imitating Him. The work of spiritual declension 
had begun, nay, had advanced. In this case there 
remains the malediction, ( Anathema Maranatha/ We 
are not leaving Christ, but we have left Him. 

Once more, the sign of commencing religious de- 
clension was when the things of Christ grew less at- 
tractive, and we began to give the first place to things 
of the world. Between going forward and going back 
the text supposed no medium. The carnal mind was not 
indifference, but ' enmity against God.' Therefore we 
might well take as our first Lenten lesson the warning 
to the Church of Ephesus. We might see from what 
a height she had fallen. . We could judge what a 
spiritual Church she was, and yet a few centuries after 
she had ' neither candlestick nor name.' At that little 
1 somewhat ' the gold changed, one of the seven stars 
disappeared, and Ephesus comes before us in the way 
of a warning of the danger of swerving from Grod. Let 
us, he suggested in conclusion, be honest in carrying 
back our thoughts to some period when our spiritual love 
was fervent, and testing whether of us too it might not 
be said that we had ' left our first love/ 

Now, I have quoted more largely from this discourse 
than might appear necessary, because I wanted honestly 
to apply it to the case of the Golden Lecture itself. I 
could see a decided falling away from first love in the 
case of all save the somnolent clergymen, the volun- 
teer parish clerk, and the devoted maiden ladies. It 
seemed hard to account for, just as an outsider might 
have deemed that the sermon meted out ' hard lines ' to 
Ephesus. There was evident effort on the part of the 
preacher to keep to the old grooves and ruts of Evan- 
gelical style; but at the same time there was the 


self-evident fact that tliese Evangelical attractions did 
not 'draw' as heretofore. Only these faithful thirty 
stood, or rather sat, faithfully where the hosts used to 
gather. There was all the old prestige, all the genius 
loci, and no small personal influence on the part of the 
preacher ; for Mr Moore is a fortunate and, in a certain 
sense, a famous man. His church at the top of West- 
bourne Terrace is more than full; but then TyBurnian 
churches always are, even if golden lectures are a howl- 
ing wilderness. It is clear that some special attraction 
is necessary to draw men from their business at the 
busiest portion of the day. Ignatius does it by his 
preaching; and I am told Mr B/odwell does it at St 
Ethelburga's, Bishopsgate, by his advanced Ritualistic 
service. Mr Moore simply does not do it at St Marga- 
ret's, Lothbury, with his unattractive, not to say prosy 
or slovenly service, and his intensely orthodox evan- 
gelical discourse. One felt disposed to stir up every- 
thing except the dilapidated verger, who appeared to 
walk restlessly about just in order to avoid becoming 
subject to the prevailing stagnation, and affording to a 
scandalized Christendom the spectacle of a sleeping 
beauty in a snuffy black dress-coat. 

This is a terribly practical age, when everybody has 
to submit to the cui lono test, and it is quite certain that 
a rich endowment like the Grolden Lectureship will not 
pass uncriticized if the clerical Croesus who holds it be 
not able to entice more than thirty old-fashioned people 
to Pactolus. 



OF all the different Churches of England it had been 
my lot to chronicle there was none which I pictured 
so piquantly to my imagination neither High Church, 
Dry Church, Low Church, nor . Slow Church as that 
exceedingly genteel form of godliness of which I had 
seen some glimpses in my Age of Innocence, when an 
Evangelical relative bore me, unwillingly, to the shrines 
of a then rising Molyneux, Noel, McNeile, or Close. 
Alas ! how times change ; two out of my celebrities have 
'secessed;' while the third has been fossilized into a 
canon, and the last annihilated in a deanery. I lived in 
Gower Street at the time when I had these infantile 
( experiences ; ' and I vow that, to this day, I cannot 
pass that locality, even in the bowels of the Metropolitan 
tunnel, without shuddering in the midst of rny asphyxia 
as I recall them. They were excruciatingly genteel and, 
of course, proportionately uncomfortable. 

Symptoms of a return to pristine innocence must, I 
fancy, have developed themselves in me of late without 
my consciousness thereof, for on two occasions I have 
been favoured with a card, of which the following is an 
exact transcript : 


and Miss propose (D.Y.) to hold a Bible Bead- 
ing on Evening, , at 7| 

o'clock, when the Company of Friends is requested. 

Subject, Eev. ii. 
Beading from 7f- to 9. 
Morning Dress. 

I meant to go, but mundane circumstances prevented 
me, so I suppose I shall never have the chance ag-ain. 
By the way, I did go to something of the kind years ago, 


and recollect that, after one of the usual talkee-talkee 
evenings,, Bibles were handed round on a tray, like re- 
freshments, and we wound up with prayers. A worldly- 
minded acquaintance also told me that he got an invita- 
tion to something of the same sort once, which, as far as 
the body of the card was concerned, might have applied 
to a dance, or even a card-party ; but in the corner were 
the characters, ( Tea and IV It was only after length- 
ened study he gathered that the cabalistic signs stood 
for ' Tea and Prayers. ' 

Experiences, then, of what I would venture to call 
the Lavender Kid Glove School of Theology, were things 
of the distant past with me when I proposed to renew 
them by visiting some shrine of Fashionable Evangelic- 
alism. But whither should I go ? The world that is, 
the western world of London was ( all before me where 
to choose.' There is plenty of evangelicalism at the 
East-end ; but it was not of the sort I wanted not 
fashionable. There could be no doubt that lavender kids 
were dying out of the Establishment scarcely, perhaps, 
to its ]oss; becoming extinct like the Dodo, and giving 
place to a more masculine and intellectual system. Its 
last stronghold was in certain Proprietary Episcopal 
Chapels, clustering in a narrow radius round the Marble 
Arch. To one of these I would go ; and it was perhaps 
an unconscious piece of flunkeyism that guided my steps 
to the particular shrine. I saw that the Rev. J. W. 
Eeeve, of Portman Chapel, Baker Street, was gazetted 
a Queen^s Chaplain. By the way, it struck me what a 
remarkably eclectic system the Royal theology must be 
if it was directed by the Royal Chaplains.- But this is 
not to the purpose. Mr Reeve was a new-fledged regal 
director, and from his mouth I would hear a fashionable 
evangelical utterance. I may not see lavender kids 
upon the hands, but I was sure of the theology that 
would emanate from the pulpit. So, as Sam Slick says, 
1 1 up and went. ' 

Portman Chapel, well known to travellers going south 
by Atlas omnibuses, is as unecclesiastical-looking an 
edifice as the veriest Puritan could desire. The interior 


reminded me, for some reason or other, of a County 
Court; and the facade surmounting the communion 
table I must not say ' Altar ' now at the west-end 
was exactly like a sepulchral monument at Kensal 
Green ; but every precaution had been taken to veil its 
ugliness by the erection of a monstrous bireme of a 
pulpit and reading-desk right in front. Not knowing 
that the bireme was located due west, I entered at that 
extremity, thinking I should be taking the lowest seat 
in the synagogue ; when, alas ! I found myself among 
the very elite, and the pew-opener, who was a sturdy 
little woman, looked at me quite fiercely, so that I was 
fain to beat a retreat, and retire among the livery- 
servants at the back. There were some beautiful uni- 
forms, and I had every opportunity of observing them, 
for the sturdy little woman kept me a long time standing 
I suppose to punish my presumption. She. was not in 
the least awed by my clerical attire they never are at 
Episcopal Chapels though I had been somewhat careful 
in my toilette that morning, so as. not to look like an 
undertaker's man or a waiter out for a holiday. Perhaps 
I rather overdid it, and the little official thought me 
' High/ When she did give me aseat, it was the unkindest 
cut of all ; for instead of putting me in among the gentle- 
men's gentlemen or the pretty ladies'-maids, she handed 
me into a small deal box, containing three voluminous 
evangelical ladies, the outside one of whom scowled 
fiercely as the little pew-opener apologized for inserting 
me. Not only so, but she walked right outside the box 
into the aisle, carrying lots of wraps and two huge 
volumes with her, so as to allow me to pass. Of course, 
1 was covered with confusion, and also by the evangelic- 
al lady when, we sat down. She did so with averted 
face perhaps she thought I was a Broad Churchman 
and never offered me her hymn-book, though it was large 
enough for a whole pewful ; but a nice little girl in the 
pew in front sympathized with my destitute condition, 
and handed me back hers. 

The curate who was reading the service introductory 
to the sermon, was a delicate-looking gentleman, with 


a voice very liigli up in his head, and a delivery that 
suggested plums in the mouth. This I find to be a 
frequent characteristic of evangelical clergymen., and I 
fancy it is some occult sign of orthodoxy. The school . 
children, who were placed in a rickety -looking gallery 
fearfully near thereof, sang the Venite sweetly ; but the 
Te Deum was taken to a tune like 'Rule Britannia/ 
The music, however, was above par on the whole. The 
first hymn, which had a semi-legal refrain, ' We have 
an Advocate above/ was set to the beautiful tune 
arranged f for tho^e at sea' in c Hymns Ancient and 
Modern/ But ' Hymns Ancient and Modern ' had no 
place in Portman Chapel. We sang from the more 
orthodox Mercer. The second hymn was something 
about f lowest depths of tribulation/ taken to Luther's 
tune. Then the little pew-opener drew down the sun- 
blinds and the warm curtains . over the doors, and we 
settled to the real business of the meeting the sermon. 

There was an immense congregation, and the sturdy 
woman had to bring in camp-stools for serious grooms 
and awakened footmen. Before the sermon Mr Reeve 
came from the communion table to the reading-desk or 
basement of the bireme, and read a long notice as to 
confirmation from the Bishop of London ; in which I 
was struck by the dexterity with which that prelate 
avoided any direct statement as to the doctrine of the 
Established Church on that rite. One party, as we know, 
elevate it into a sacrament ; the others deny all signifi- 
cance of the imposition of hands. But this by the way. 
My business is with the sermon. 

Mr Reeve is an elderly, comfortable-looking gentle- 
man, and entered the rostrum in the old-standing cos- 
tume of black gown, large bands, and double eye-glass, 
but without the lavender kids. I presume, therefore, 
they have quite ' gone out,' as the ladies say. He read, 
as his text, words from the First Lesson, Exodus iii. 7 
and part of verse 8 : 'And the Lord said, "I have surely 
seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and 
have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters : for 
I .know their sorrows, and I am come down to deliver 



them." ' I was much surprised to see he was not going 
to preach extempore, for he bore along with him a 
ponderous MS. I should have fancied extemporaneous 
oratory was a sine qtta non at Portman Chapel. I always 
find it difficult to analyze a very evangelical discourse, 
but I will do my best. 

The preacher began with a picture of the burning bush 
on Horeb, which he characterized as not only wondrous, 
but ' gracious/ He then passed on to an application of 
the figure to the Church. It should be holy, as the place 
of God's presence. Moses was bidden to take the shoes 
from off his feet, because the place was holy. The 
character of a house depended upon that of its occupant. 
Now the way in which this fact was communicated 
showed God's power; but the fact itself showed His 
grace. He had come to save. It was not because they 
deserved salvation j it was enough that they needed it. 
What a view did this give us of the grace of God ! It 
was the same with us that morning. God knew we 
needed grace. He didn't come down because we were 
good, but because He was gracious. He would not leave 
the Israelites one hour too long in Egypt. Four hundred 
years was the appointed time. Egypt was to be their 
school, and Pharaoh their school-master. Then the people 
were brought out with a mighty arm. How this ought 
to quiet us under discipline. There was a purpose in all 
things. There was not one tear in the eye of which God 
did not see the necessity. Only let us rest all on God's 
' character/ Then of us', as of Israel in Egypt, it should 
be true that Grod would come and deliver us. 

Though all were His people, yet some were specially 
so. In the text His people represented the Church, 
where the wheat and tares were growing together. The 
deliverance was common to all, good and bad ; but all 
did not get to Canaan. So many bad men enjoy some 
privileges, but yet never get to know full privileges. 
So there is a Spiritual people, who rest all on grace, 
accepting salvation in Jesus Christ, patiently waiting in 
submission to God. 

Let us, he said, dwell on that expression, ' My people.' 


They were separate from the world. It was even as 
Christ said, c They are not of the world, as I am not of 
the world.' Yet still God's people were often an afflicted 
people. In the 5th chapter Pharaoh refused straw, but 
demanded the full tale of bricks. In the 6th chapter we 
found the despondency of Israel so great that they 
' ceased to care/ So our heart often failed. But let us 
look to the history. God was still God, notwithstanding 
all the troubles of His people. 

One would not speak nntenderly, he continued. God 
knows your, afflictions (though I must say the congre- 
gation looked as little 'afflicted'' as any I ever saw ; still 
he harped upon that string). All their afflictions were 
light compared with that caused by a sense of sin which 
man could not bear. This made the Gospel so precious. 
It was one thing to be cast down by sorrow, but quite 
another by the sense of sin. Time wore out the one 
sorrow, but nothing save the Gospel alleviated the other. 
It was only by the blood of Jesus Christ that a man, 
weighed down with the sense of sin, was ever made to 
smile again. If he was brought under the dominion of 
siu, he soon 'ceased to care/ Still, whatever was the 
cry whether of the blood of Abel, or the sin of Sodom, 
from the oppressor or the oppressed God heard and 
helped. This should be our comfort, 'I have seen/ &c. 
God, he said, heard to some purpose where often we did 
not. Hundreds lived without preaching the Gospel as 
they ought ; hundreds, who were rolling in wealth, did 
nothing to alleviate misery. They might, perhaps, 
adopt the cheapest form of all charity, by tossing a little 
money to the poor. That was not what was meant, 
' Blessed is the man that considereth the poor/ It was 
not enough to give ' great lumps ' of money. Men 
might be the very ' pink 3 of morality, the very e pink ' 
of amiability; but as long as their thoughts revolved 
round self as a centre all this would be as nothing. The 
text was a comfort for those who were waiting on the 
Lord. He was not like the gods of the heathen, who 
had eyes and saw not, ears had they and heard not. He 
was all-seeing, prayer-hearing and prayer-answering. 


God's people in the world were in worse than Egyptian 
bondage, and Grod sent His Son for their redemption, not 
to make us sons, but that we might receive the adoption 
of sons. All the privileges of the New Testament were 
shut up in Jesus Christ. The question was not what 
place we deserved, but what place Christ deserved, for 
Christ took the place of sinners. 

' If spared until the evening ' (and I must say there 
seemed every reason to hope it would be so), the preacher 
proposed to follow out the subject yet further. I did 
not go, though I trust he was spared. But if I must 
be candid though all this was, I am sure, the very 
c pink ' of orthodoxy, it was slightly uninteresting. One 
could bear it once in the wav ; but I marvelled as I 

:' ^ 

looked at that large congregation the voluminous lady 
and the serious servants and thought ' those people 
come here every Sunday.' 

There was a collection after the sermon, deferred from 
the previous Sunday, which the preacher naively observed 
had been wet, so that a good many of the congregation 
were absent. Then I passed out ; and as I did so I was 
greatly exercised to observe that, despite his proximity 
to Portman Chapel, one Robinson, who was building a 
big shop opposite, had placarded it with an announce- 
ment, ' Robinson will open these premises/ &c., but in 
the &c. no symptoms of a ' D. V. ' I 


great temptation against which one has to con- 
JL tend in these sketches of ecclesiastical men of mark 
is the adoption of something like a Vox Populi, Vox Dei 
principle, or the giving a man a place simply because 
people run after him. I forswore such a principle at 



the outset, and studiously took comparatively unknown 
men in preference to celebrities ; and yet it is difficult 
always to keep to one's resolution. If people would 
only run after the right men there would be no necessity 
to do so ; but just as the most deserving cases for 
charity are those which avoid publicity, and which it is 
almost impossible to find out, so does it often happen 
that the best men, in ecclesiastical, even more than 
other walks of life,, fail to realize their commercial value, 
and lie quietly beneath the surface of society, on which 
some blatant, bombastic nonentity gaily rides afloat. 

I remember, when Dr Evans and I were each of us 
twenty years younger than we now are, writing an 
article on him in a then popular but long since defunct 
magazine, whereinto, after paying what I considered, 
and still consider, due tribute to his merits, I infused a 
great deal of genuine indignation on account of his 
being only an evening lecturer at St Andrew's, Wells 
Street, on an exceedingly homoeopathic stipend, and 
what was still worse in a sphere much too confined for 
his energy and talents. Dr Evans was then, in my 
estimation, a sort of refined Mr Spurgeon. Each of 
those gentlemen was at the zenith of his fame j but Mr 
Spurgeon' s star was so recently in the ascendant that 
the Church of England clergyman could scarcely be 
suspected of imitating him, as I fancy a good many 
Church of England clergymen have not scrupled to do 
since. He was the first clergyman I had then known 
who was able to draw a large congregation of men, old 
and young. Myself and my old schoolmaster used often 
to sit side by side in the same pew on a Sunday evening 
at St Andrew's to listen to the then somewhat juvenile 
preacher. Of the service it used to be said by sarcastic 
young devouees that Mr Murray sang the priest's part, 
while Forster laughed at him on the org-an. For many 
years this talented preacher drew vast congregations as 
a lecturer and a curate, deriving nothing 1 , or next to 
nothing, but empty honour from his efforts. He was a 
High Churchman, a very High Churchman for those 
j and much too independent and plain-spoken to 


trim or hide Ms most extreme opinions. Consequently 
lie had to wait out in the cold a good while ; but, in 
course of time, the authorities were ashamed of them- 
selves, and shelved him with a Lambeth D.D., and the 
incumbency of St Mary-le- Strand, the church opposite 
Somerset House. Now a City church or one as near' 
Temple Bar as St Mary's requires a good deal of 
metamorphosing to fit it for Kitualistic purposes : and 
Strand wardens and congregations are the reverse of 
gesthetic. Taking* all things into consideration, Dr 
Evans must have had a trying time of it to make his 
church as presentable as it is. If the truth must be 
spoken, it has taken kindly to its new character, and 
looks almost as though it had been built by Tractarians. 
It is oak-stalled, and richly, but not altogether ecclesias- 
tically, adorned throughout; while the apsidal chancel 
is quite large enough to accommodate the surpliced 
choir Dr Evans has installed there. It is lighted by 
three handsome stained windows, and a rich corona 
hangs suspended from the ceiling. The altar is chastely 
ornamented, with two large tapers and two bouquets of 
three smaller ones each uplTnp it, as well as a cross or 
crucifix, I could not see which, for it was Palm Sunday 
when I paid my visit to St Mary's, and the sacred 
symbol was veiled in purple. I cannot imagine what 
time service begins at this church ; I should think it 
must be at a quarter to eleven ; for I got there at five 
minutes to the hour, thinking I was remarkably punc- 
tual, but found they were in the middle of the Venite. 
c Matins,' however, form only a sort of prelude to the 
real service, which is the celebration of the Holy Com- 
munion, for Dr Evans is an advanced Sacrarnentarian. 
He was arrayed in surplice, scarlet doctor's hood, and 
purple stole, when I entered, and looked rather gorgeous 
on the whole. There was the same bright, piercing eye 
that used to scan the vast congregations at St Andrew's ; 
but the frame was considerably bent, aged, and signifi- 
cant of hard work. "When he came to intone the 
prayers, his voice was musical still, but shaky, and 
almost more than twenty years older since I heard it 


last in church. It was a bright, cheerful choral service, 
though there was no congregation to speak of ; and it 
stopped short after the third Collect, jumping at once 
to the prayer of St Chrysostom ; the big lion and 
unicorn over the chancel arch probably standing in 
place of the ' State Prayers/ When it was over, the 
choir went out at the west door in procession, pre- 
ceded by a cross-bearer, and singing as they went. 
The clergy passed out at a door in the sacrarium, and 
the church bell tolled for the mid- day celebration. 
Shortly afterwards Dr Evans re-emerged, walked down 
the nave to the choir vestry, and presently returned 
with them as before, the curate dressed in rich Euchar- 
istic vestments joining the procession as it entered the 
chancel. There .was a sprinkling of people in the 
church now ; but only a small congregation from first 
to last. During the absence of the clergy and choir, 
a youth in a puce cassock had lighted the two large 
bougies on the altar, and covered everything that could 
be covered with purple drapery. The curate acted as 
celebrant, Dr Evans and the purple-cassocked youth 
kneeling on either side of him in the Epistle and Gospel 
places. And here may it be permitted to make one 
critical remark in the kindest possible way ? It is 
simply this, _ that full Eucharistic vestments look incon- 
gruous with large whiskers, and hair parted down the 
middle. Some sacrifice must be made when clerical 
gentlemen go in for Ritualism ; and the line between 
the Church and the world must be drawn at whiskers. 
Dr Evans's curate wore large whiskers, which spoilt the 
mise en sc&ne. This gentleman intoned the somewhat 
complicated service passably well, but made a mistake 
or two sometimes in the pitch, whereat the choir smiled 
openly and irreverently. There was one cub of a boy, 
whose head I felt a most uneesthetic longing to ' punch ; ' 
for a broad grin suffused his cellar- door of a mouth 
whenever the curate made a mistake. It is one great 
disadvantage of the clergy facing East that they cannot 
see the delinquencies of these irrepressible boys. I am 
unorthodox enough to think boys out of place alto- 


gether. Not only do boys lose their voices before they 
have any chance of appreciating what they are doing in 
the service, but woman is so much the other way so 
naturally the worshipper. Why has no one tried a choir 
of surpliced girls ? They would improve every year, up 
to a certain point, of course. At all events, they would 
not fail just when the trouble had been taken with 
them. All this, however, par parenthdse. I hope Dr 
Evans's choir will take the hint, and remember that 
there is something in a choral service infinitely more 
important than the music, and that is devotion. 

After the Nicene Creed, the banns were published by 
the curate at the altar rail, and Dr Evans gave out 
notices from the pulpit, after which he began his 
sermon. Taking no text, he commenced by saying 
that self-examination, which was always a duty, was 
now more so than ever, when Lent was ebbing away, 
never to return to some of us. It was a duty not too 
frequently undertaken ; but there was another as im- 
portant and as infrequent, that was examination, or re- 
examination, not of self, but of principles. The one 
more or less involved the other ; and it was imperative, 
lest what had been taken for principles should turn out 
to be only opinions, or, having been accepted as theories, 
should remain, inoperative. The many were willing 
enough to talk rightly, and to leave it to the few to act 
rightly, and to the still fewer to suffer wrongly. They 
might think, from what he said, that he had been re- 
examining his principles ; and they were not far wrong. 
He had been doing this with good reason. He then 
referred to the first years of the ' Catholic ' revival, now 
thirty years old, and spoke of Dr Newman and those 
who, at the peril of their persons, undertook the work 
of Eestoration. John Wesley, he said, looking back 
on his work after a like period of some thirty years, 
said that his religion wanted restoring. It would be 
well, too, that we should examine whether we were 
holding our principles as earnestly as at first. 

After long and earnest consideration, which had been 
forced upon him, he had come to the conclusion that 


the view taken of the Eucharist was that it was only 
meant to benefit or ward off ill from man ; but that it 
was no offering to God, no act of homage. This was 
about as low and defective a view as could be taken by 
a royal priesthood of the household of faith ; and that 
such a view could content Church people with a Catholic 
revival nearly half a century old in their midst, was 
simply marvellous. The remedy for non-communicating 
attendance had strangely enough come to be non-com- 
municating non-attendance. [That was a sentence that 
put us in mind of the old antithetical St Andrew's 
se'rmons.] The people would be scandalized, he said, if 
priests omitted to celebrate on the chance of ' their 
highnesses' ' attendance. ' Can yon conceive such 
inconsistency ? ' he asked. ' If your communicating be 
all, why do you not give notice, as the rubric directs ? 3 
These views, he went on to say, were far more defect- 
ive than those of our Evangelical forefathers. How 
did they speak of the Eucharist ? They called it ' The 
Ordinance/ They referred to the day of its adminis- 
tration as ' Ordinance Sunday ; 3 and they always con- 
sidered it a high day, though they were not High 
Church, and the discoverv had not then been made that 

' J 

it was not respectable to be a Low Churchman. They 
spoke of it as commemorating their Saviour's dying 
love ; and this took their thoughts off at once from 
themselves to Him. They felt they were obeying their 
Redeemer's dying commands, and this took the act out 
of the category of will- worship. It was a direct act of 
obedience to Christ ; and that is never without a bless- 
ing. True, their Eucharist only came round once a 
month ; but, when it did come, every communicant was 
present and communicated. ' I speak of things which 
I know, and I testify of that which I have seen,' re- 
peated the preacher, very solemnly and emphatically. 
' If they had felt it their duty to celebrate every Sunday, 
they would have done it.' While such was the case 
with outlying bodies of Christians, what, he asked, 
were we doing at this honr ? This was the conduct of 
these men with only their New Testament in their hands. 


' Yes ; but tlien they don't believe wliat we do/ some 
might be inclined to suggest ; and this was what edu- 
cated ignorance called argument. Were they not all 
the more praiseworthy for doing what they did simply 
because Christ willed and commanded it ? Which was 
the worse, he who with higher views omitted, or he 
who with lower views never neglected, his duty ? l Gro 
and do thou likewise/ he added, and gave the ascrip- 
tion abruptly, after having preached scarcely more than 
ten or twelve minutes. It was a striking sermon, with 
several scintillations of the old style about it, and de- 
served a better congregation than came to hear it ; but 
it is too true, people don't like plain-speaking or definite 
doctrine, even when it is of their own sort. I could 
not help picturing the throngs that could be stuffed 
into the pews of Portman Chapel that same Sunday 
morning ! 

There was no break or pause between the prayer for 
the church militant and the actual communion office ; so 
that all the congregation, as far as I could see, remained 
for the celebration, though comparatively few persons 
communicated. There was a beautiful Eucharistic 
hymn sung during the administration. Indeed, the whole 
service was chaste and good, though of course of a 
very pronounced Ritualistic type. During the cleansing 
of the vessels and consumption of the elements the 
Nunc Dimittis was chanted, the choir leaving the church 
in procession to the concluding verses. ' Non est qualis 
erat ' will possibly be the verdict of those who knew Dr 
Evans ' in the brave days of old ; ' but none can hear him 
without feeling conscious that he is in presence of a man 
of mark. He deserves a better locale and a more sym- 
pathetic auditory. In the Strand he is the round man 
in the square hole. Probably the only act of his which 
uneesthetic parishioners will appreciate is the widening 
of the thoroughfare in front of Somerset House ; a cir- 
cumstance which will, no doubt, perpetuate the memory 
of his incumbency in distant days, when perhaps one of 
the other Churches of England has got hold of St 
Mary's-in-the-Strand, and an ' occasional preacher ' 


vents ultra- Calvinism from the pulpit which re-echoed 
to Ritualistic utterances this present Palm Sunday. 

As I left the church I read an announcement that a 
mission service is held by the curate every Thursday in 
Drury Lane, to which the poor were invited to come in 
their ' working clothes.' This recalled to my mind the 
title of a volume of sermons by Dr Evans which I read 
' ages ago/ and liked. It was called c Christianity in 
its Homely Aspects/ 



AMONG the many and various Churches of England 
with which I have been brought into contact, I 
have been greatly exercised to find out which was the 
Church of England par excellence. Supposing Lord 
Macaulay's New Zealander should so far antedate his 
own existence as to live in the present day, and ask me 
to take him to a typical Church of the ' Establishment/ 
whither should I, and that interesting alien, bend our 
steps ? My process of abstraction seemed to be so 
exhaustive as to render any subsequent generalization 
impossible. By the time I had abstracted my Ritualist, 
my Evangelical, my Broad Churchman, where would be 
the residuum from which to generalize ? The question 
was solved somewhat unexpectedly for me on Easter 
Eve of the year of grace 1873 by an article in the Daily 
Telegraph on Easter Church Decorations. The ubi- 
quitous gentleman who does the Churches for that 
journal, and whom the Guardian pictured as a 'fearful 
and wonderful person/ informed his multitudinous 
readers that the Rev. John Robbins, D.D., of St Peter's 


Church, Kensington Park, was a representative of ' the 
Church of England pure and simple/ Eureka ! I had 
found it ! My problem was solved, like the Grordian 
knot, at a stroke. I would' lose no time in bringing 
myself face to face, at this typical Church, of St Peter's, 
with the purity and simplicity of the Church of- England 
as by law established. 

The locale of St Peter's, Kensington Park which 
must on no account be called JSFotting Hill is best 
described as emphatically and excruciatingly genteel. 
If the social hemisphere were divided into zones 
analogous to the vegetable belts of physical geography, 
I should call Kensington Park the zone of stucco and 
veneer. Life in Kensington Park is artificial to a degree ; 
but it is pre-eminently genteel. In such a sphere, some 
sixteen years ago, did the unecclesiastical-looking fane 
of St Peter's grow up, an offshoot from the Gothic St 
John's hard by. Outside it might be anything, from a 
Metropolitan Railway Station upwards ; but inside, at 
least on Easter Sunday, 1873, it was very gorgeous 
indeed. It is classical to the backbone, a sort of 
miniature Madeleine ; but its comforts, conveniences, 
and, I am bound to add, its eesthetical beauties, tempt 
an utilitarian critic to ask, Why are our pure and simple 
Churches of England so persistently Gothic ? It is 
riddled with galleries, which have the effect of cutting 
in two its new stained windows ; but then there is the 
very best answer to the cui bono of these galleries, there 
is an immense congregation, who could not be accom- 
modated without them. 

It was choke-full when I got there I regret to say 
so late that they were singing the Benedictus ; but the 
pew-opener was polite to a fault, and insisted on getting 
me a front-seat, though I professed myself ready to be 
contented with a window-sill. It was, be it remembered, 
Easter Sunday, and the Athanasian Creed was de 
rigueur ; but I am bound to say Dr Bobbin's excellent 
surpliced choir, aided by the organist, managed to have 
that sung so as to make it resemble far more the battle- 
song against which Mr Burgon so strongly protested,, 


instead of the symbolum it never can be. I could not 
but smile as I heard the sweet voices of the little boys 
at St Peter's warbling forth the tremendous damnatory 
clauses, while my little girl, who was with me, looked 
up in helpless ignorance and asked me, ' Papa, what are 
they singing ? ' The old-fashioned Easter hymn ' Jesus 
Christ is risen to-day ' was sung in splendid unison 
before the Litany, and that was intoned by the precentor, 
the Hev. T. Evans, with full accompaniment on the 
organ ; an arrangement which obviated the necessity of 
that dreadful pulling-up of the pitch, which is sure to 
occur where the choir, as at St Peter's, is an amateur 
one, however excellent. I fancy the Litany is always a 
favourite period for meditation on the part of the wor- 
shippers. I have heard that the ladies devote that 
portion of the service to criticism of their neighbours' 
millinery. There are twenty minutes safe, without 
having to stand up or do anything where mistakes can 
be made. I devoted it to taking* stock of this pure and 
simple Church ; but then with me, mesdames, remember, 
it is a matter of necessity. The heavy Corinthian pillars 
were painted with a dead flatted red, and the capitals 
richly gilded, an arrangement which in itself at once 
made St Peter's unique, but which is very far from 
being objectionable. The chancel, once depressed, is 
now elevated on three steps, paved with encaustic tiles, 
and separated by a light rail from the body of the 
church; the railing being, on this occasion, chastely 
adorned with flowers for the great Spring Festival. 
The altar on a foot-pace was vested in white, and sur- 
mounted with a beautiful bed of white and red azaleas. 
Above these were an unobtrusive cross, and still higher, 
a painted window consisting of a copy of E/affaelle's 
cartoon, ' Feed my sheep.' A rich communion service 
was on a credence table hard by. Everything was re- 
fined, and nothing Roman. There were no candlesticks, 
vases, or other paraphernalia ; and yet all was rich in 
the extreme. I began to think the Telegraph was right, 
and I had got hold of the ideal Church of England, 
without any foreign or meretricious adjuncts. The 


stained glass in the dismembered windows round the 
church, though by well-known Gothic artists, was 
equally realistic. There were no splay-footed saints or 
impossible backgrounds. They steered a middle course 
between the grotesque and the commonplace. I de- 
cidedly liked St Peter's. Mr Evans's intonation of the 
Litany was like the glass ; so was the accompaniment. 
They were artistically correct, without a symptom of 
degenerating into a mere musical performance. I really 
began to think of consulting the polite pew-openers as 
to the prices of sittings at St Peter's, only my mind 
misgave me whether there were any to let ; and I also 
remembered that I myself was a bird of passage, a very 
Arabian among churchgoers, pitching my tent to-day 
only to strike it next Sunday. 

By another exceedingly judicious arrangement the 
sermon is placed immediately after the Morning Prayer 
and Litany, so that the Communion is made an entirely 
distinct service. A bell is rung to summon those who 
wish to be present, and those who do not are dismissed 
' with God's benediction upon them ; 3 not sent off as at 
most churches in a state of semi-disgrace after the 
prayer for the Church militant, while perhaps some 
young curate, with more zeal than discretion, hurls after 
them the Exhortation to Communion as a sort of ' procul 
ite profani.' Dr Bobbins who will, perhaps, pardon 
my saying he looks remarkably juvenile for an S.T.P. 
then mounted an exceedingly ugly pulpit, which I 
venture to hope is only temporary, and without note or 
preliminary prayer gave us an excellent sermon, of 
which I can only find place for a meagre abstract. 

Taking his epigrammatic Easter text from St Luke 
xxiv. 39, ' It is I Myself/ Christians, he said, rested 
much, and justly so, on the fact that Jesus brought 
life and immortality to light through the Gospel. 
Reason denied that immortality was a new idea, but 
Christian zeal in claiming that it was so undervalued 
the power of natural theology to attain to its discovery. 
As usual the truth lay between these two extremes. 
Immortality was no necessary part of a philosophical 


scheme, and therefore philosophy passed it by, as 
natural science passed it by now, without denying it, 
though some systems treated the idea as a mere day- 
dream. To Christianity it was necessary. Either 
there was a future life or all its hopes came to no- 
thing. If Christ was not risen then was our hope vain, 
and we of all creatures most miserable. Christianity 
was not against reason in this respect, because 
an instinctive yearning told us that we lived again. 
There was an aching void in man's heart, and Christ 
filled it. Before Christianity philosophy had a dim 
sort of belief, confined to a select few of the rich or 
learned; but Christ popularized it, and brought it 
down to the level of the poor and broken-hearted 
mourner. He made it definite and natural by assuring 
us that death changes nothing in the individuality of 
the person. This, Dr Bobbins said, he would take as 
his Easter subject. 

Humanity waited forty centuries in expectation 
before this truth was revealed. Neither genius nor 
faith could have invented the Gospel, or forecast the 
Saviour's career. Genius would have made it a series 
of triumphs; mere faith would have pictured Christ 
only as a greater Abraham or Moses, it could not 
have imagined Bethlehem, Tabor, Gethsemane, or 
Calvary. The events associated with these were such 
as could neither be anticipated nor repeated. And 
this was even more true of the mystic Forty Days 
that succeeded. If the New Testament had left off 
at the empty tomb, what should we have thought of 
the Resurrection ? Whither should we have expected 
Christ first to go ? To Jerusalem, to confront the 
Sanhedrim ? to Pilate, to reproach him with his 
weak compliance ? or to Calvary, with the chosen 
three, to overthrow the cross, and hurl back the 
challenge : ' If He be the Son of God, let Him save 
Himself ?' He went to none of these. Invested with 
no worldly splendour, He went back to the scenes 
of the ordinary life He had lived before. He renewed 
the previous relations with those who had been his 


companions, the tax-gatherers, the peasants, and the 
pious women ; those who were the true Israelites, 
Nathaniel-like, ' without guile/ To these He gave 
His last directions, to insure the story being truly told. 
For this He stayed on earth, while angels and saints 
waited to lead Him to His throne at God's right hand. 
' Having loved His own who were in the world, He> 
loved them to the end,' and therefore he said to them, 
'It is I Myself.' So, too, with His habits, He still 
stood on the silvery strand, and on the mountain side, 
speaking those gentle words which touch the hearts of 
little children to this day as no other story one can tell 
touches them. He had the same power of unveiling 
hearts j witness the cases of Peter and Thomas. He 
predicted the old age of St John, and the crucifixion 
of St Peter. All was the same. Death was evidently 
powerless to touch the spiritual individuality. On the 
road to Emmaus, He allowed them to press Him to 
stay, just like an ordinary man ; and when by the 
wounds in His hands He was recognized as He brake 
the bread, He vanished out of their sight. It was 
just as it had ever been. He gave them enough 
evidence to produce conviction, not to compel it. So, 
too, was it with Thomas ; and Peter also was recalled 
to his Apostleship by the power of love, in the very 
same place where he had first received his commission. 
So, again, in the case of Mary Magdalene : to her the 
Saviour, who had proclaimed that love is both the fruit 
and the condition of pardon, addressed the first words 
of the Resurrection, at the door of the sepulchre, 
whose supposed violation she mourned ' I ascend to 
my Father and your Father, to my God and your 
God.' He, the holy ambassador of mercy and love, 
went to give account of His finished mission to a rebel 
world, in the courts of the Almighty God of gods and 
Lord of lords. 

So, then, to come to consequences. Death, said the 
preacher, changed nothing in fundamental existence. 
The organs dropped away, useless as the pen when we 
ceased to use it. But we could now say, as Christ said 


then, ' It is I myself/ Our identity subsisted beyond 
the grave. Our Master was Himself the proof or 
guarantee. But how was man to regain the lost image 
of his Maker, and not only to rise to an individual 
existence, but to an immortality triumphant and full of 
glory ? Even by the path trodden by his risen Saviour, 
by the way of the cross : 

' ! glorious cross exalted high, 

Sole emblem of our faith, 
Speaking forth from Calvary 

Of a loved Saviour's death ! 
Wondrous tale of love to tell, 

Such as ne'er was heard before ; 
Give us grace to love it well 

And silently adore. 

' Ages past have heard that voice 

In loving kindness sent, 
Truthful souls it bids rejoice 

And erring souls repent. 
Ages yet to come shall hear 

That voice on land and sea, 
Lo ! the cross cries everywhere 

That Jesus died for thee ! 

' Yes, for thee, spoilt child of clay, 

Thy long-lost soul to win : 
Darkest night to turn to day 

To guard thy steps from sin. 
Through the cross thou mayest adore 

The Christ who died for all : 
May we ever heavenward soar 

Till time be past recall.' 

' By the way of the cross despised/ says an old writer, 
f is the road of destruction; by the way of the cross 
obeyed lies the path to life eternal/ ' He has left us 
an example,, that we should walk as he walked/ and 
only if we are made conformable to the likeness of 
His death, might we hope for the likeness of His 

What a magnificent destiny was this ! Our eyes 
were dimmed with the dust of millions of sepulchres, 
yet ' could we be perfect as He was perfect/ When 

< P URE AND SIMPLE? 1 1 1 

our dear ones faded, we could feel sure of meeting 
them, recognizing them, and being saturated with, 
their presence, as we had never been in this life. 
This was insured to us by sacramental grace. Indeed, 
they were around us everywhere, in all ages of the 
world's existence, though unperceived by the dull 
and heavy senses of mankind, and now they were 
specially left us in His own ordinances in His mystic 
body the Church, that so we might, as by external 
means, become already partakers of the Divine nature, 
and escape the corruption of the world. If this were 
not so, if the physical and moral nature were changed 
at death, it would not be we who should rise. All 
must appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; but 
how could we say c we ' if we were thus essentially 
different ? How could we long for the day when we 
should throw ourselves at the Great Absolver's feet, 
and say, e It is I with all my weaknesses, my tempta- 
tions, my repentances too soon forgotten, my promises 
of amendment too soon belied ? ' How could our 
works follow us ? When our beloved ones died we 
could not say, ' Though they shall not return to me, 
yet I shall go to them/ But it is not so; man shall 
live again : and his first exclamation shall be, ' It is I 
myself ! ' 

But should the life that succeeded, he asked, be a 
mere repetition of the present ? Not so ; the dif- 
ference presented itself to the mind of St Paul as 
analogous to that between the corn seed and the 
wheat plant. It was the difference between the tiny 
acorn and the stately oak. The corruptible must 
then put on incorruption. Yet this would not affect 
identity. We might call it e progress ' rather than 
' change/ Look at man now, ' Every inch a King/ 
and yet that man had been once a child, which a 
mere breath of wind might kill in its nurse's arms 
that same wind which he now utilized to turn his 
mill sails, and speed his ships over the sea. Here 
the change was but one of progress, and so would it 
be after death. It would be like the change between 


Moses in Ms little ark of bulrushes, and the stately 
patriarch with whom God spoke as man speaks with 
his friend. 

We should, he said in conclusion, be hereafter beings 
with consciences, but without that double nature we now 
feel within us, ' to know the right, and yet the wrong 
pursue/ We shall be worshippers still, but in face of 
the Great White Throne ; loving still, our love would be 
pure, our passions purified. There would be no heart- 
burnings in the world to come. ' Think you/ he asked, 
' that those who loved us have died, that their affection 
has ceased ? No ; or the words of the text would be 
impossible. If creation be a continuous act, and not a 
mere transitory and mocking exhibition of the so-called 
sovereignty of God, I must be able to use those words 
as my Master used them. If love be the law of God, 
and progress by love God's object in creation, I must 
be able to say to them that love me, and they to me, 
" It is I." Such is the magnificent vista of to-day. The 
grave and heaven, death and immortality, linked together 
in Christ's revelation. Life is an exercise to fit us for 
immortality; our very sufferings have their appointed 
work ; the cradle is but the passage, the world but a 
journey ; the grave only the gate \ the end is a home in 
our Father's courts ; and as we pass each, either with or 
without Christ, so shall we say with triumphant joy or 
the bitterest remorse the words of the text, and hear 
from Him the awful sentence, " Depart, ye cursed," or, 
" Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom 
prepared for you from the foundation of the world." ' 

Criticism I have elected to forego ; but I could not 
help thinking, as I saw that vast congregation file out 
from St Peter's, that, apart from all extremes, one might 
venture to say, in I hope a not very heterodox para- 
phrase, ' there's life in the old Church yet ! ' 



TjTROM the rigidity and exclusiveness which are by 
X some persons wrongly supposed to be of the essence 
of orthodoxy, it is indeed refreshing to turn to any in- 
stance where a vital Christianity leads its professors to 
keep clear of a mistake at once so silly and so ungrace- 
ful. If the Church of Rome be commonly represented 
as a lady in scarlet attire and of questionable propriety, 
the Establishment too often resembles one of those gaunt 
wallflowers one sees decorating every ball-room, whose 
very glance is sufficient to scare mankind from them, 
yet who assume a noli me tangere attitude, as though each 
one thought herself a Helen, and all the ( genus homo ' 
a Paris bent on her destruction. From this coy and 
maiden propriety the Ritualist and Evangelical cast in- 
deed furtive sheep's eyes at their 'Roman' and ( Non- 
conformist brethren' respectively; but it is only coyness; 
and if the Papist or the Dissenter dare to approach too 
near, the dear old creature bristles up again, and flies 
in dismay, like an old and far from graceful fawn. 

As I pace the London streets, I find myself regarding 
every dead wall and hoarding with interest, to see 
whether anything orthodox or unorthodox is going to 
happen within or without the pale of our virgin Establish- 
ment. Mr "Willing is my tower of strength, and I run 
my eye down the list of impending sermons in the 
Saturday evening papers as a gourmand glances over his 
bill of fare. Doing so on a recent occasion, I saw that 
Canon Miller was to preach a sermon on Thursday even- 
ing at St Matthew's, Bayswater, on behalf of the 
Moravian missions. Now I had always taken an interest 
in the little congregation in Fetter Lane. I liked to 
drop in and hear their quaint old chorales, from time to 



time. There is a warmth and geniality about them, from 
their minister down to their pew-opener, which is sadly 
rare, and on which I depend very much in my Bedouin 
condition of religious worship. I was glad to see Dr 
Miller coming to the front in their behalf, and made up 
my mind I would hear what he had to say about their 
missions, the story of which I had found as interesting 
as the Crusoe of my boyhood. Then again St Matthew's 
was the very centre and focus of orthodoxy, with a 
colonial archdeacon for its presiding genius. The little 
Moravian body in London seemed to start into unwonted 
promise, when an archdeacon and a canon held out 
brotherly hands to it from the Church of England as by 
law established. 

Travellers unacquainted with the purlieus of St 
Petersburg Place, Bayswater, mig'ht easily mistake the 
Church of St Matthew, with its unecclesiastical-looking 
outlines and queer campanile, for a station of the neigh- 
bouring district railway; but on that Thursday evening, 
the bells which some eccentric old lady has lately bestow- 
ed on St Matthew's to the discomfiture of the neighbour- 
hood were ringing out too palpably to permit the error. 
The ladies flocked thither in goodly numbers, but the 
male sex was sadly deficient. Altogether the congrega- 
tion was a sparse one ; and as I was shown into a seat un- 
necessarily in the rear by a grim Gorgon of a pew-opener, 
with a portentous cap like Mrs Gamp's, and shawl pinned 
fiercely round her throat, I felt she was indeed a repre- 
sentative of orthodoxy, and dreaded lest she might deem 
me a Moravian in disguise, against whose patronage by 
her incumbent she protested by bolting me into that 
back pew. The church iiiside struck me as resembling 
a chapel that had seen the error of its ways and become 
converted, A pulpit of dizzy height stood full in front 
as you entered to the total eclipse of the communion 
table, if there was one. I never saw it. Inside the 
rails Dr Miller was sitting in an old-fashioned black 
gown, guarded by a little phalanx of charity girls drawn 
up in open square in the chancel. These sang the hymns 
and canticles very sweetly. Archdeacon Hunter read 


the prayers simply and unaffectedly ; arid altogether 
there was something very tranquillizing in the whole 
thing, after the exceptional services at. which it is too 
often my fate to be present. I always like a week-day 
service. The ladies do not seem to have on their best 
bonnets, or the atmosphere to be redolent of light kid 
gloves and gentility. It is like going to a cathedral in 
the heart of the week. When I do drop in, I always look 
with a sort of awe on the regular congregation, and think 
' How good these people ought to be ! ' There were 
indeed one or two symptoms of St Matthew's recent 
conversion. The chancel was diapered all round the 
Creed, Lord's Prayer, and Ten Commandments in the 
vulgar tongue, and the reading desk had slid away from 
its position under the precipitous pulpit, as if it had been 
at a dark seance and got ' moved/ leaving the rostrum 
high and bluff as the rock of Gibraltar. 

'When service was over, and we had sung the in- 
evitable hymn 'From Greenland's icy mountains, from 
India's coral strand/ the lights were raised for the 
sermon, and a verger conveyed the Doctor up the ascent 
as though to guard him against mischief on his Alpine 
excursion. He might have recited ' Excelsior ' en route, 
but did not, at least not audibly. As a rule, charity 
sermons are a delusion and a snare. The preacher reads 
the collect for Quinquagesima Sunday, and takes some 
stock text which he twists round more or less violently 
at ' thirdly ; ' you give your threepenny-piece if there are 
offertory bags, your shilling or half-crown if it is an 
open plate, and go your way, forgetting what manner 
of sermon it was ; but Dr Miller's was terse, logical, and 
to the point. It was worth reporting; and I report it 
in miniature. It was preached fluently, without notes, 
and with just enough gesticulation to make what was- 
said comprehensible. Taking his text from 2 Cor. xiii. 
4, f Though He was crucified through weakness, yet He 
liveth by the power of God/ the preacher said there was 
an immediate scope of these words which was local and 
personal, applying to those who impugned the apostle- 
ship of St Paul, whilst he vindicated his claim in this 


particular epistle, comparing his own position with that 
of Christ, who often as it were held back the powers of 
the Godhead in His incarnate nature during His life and 
ministry on earth. The context, ' for we also are weak 
in Him, but we shall live with Him by the power of God 
toward you/ had been wrongly interpreted as applying 
to a future life, whereas they were merely written in 
allusion to local circumstances. ' We/ that is, ' I/ kept 
back my power, ' but I shall live with Him/. This, again, 
was explained by v. 2, ' If I come again I will not spare.' 
As much as to say, if those impugners of my apostle- 
ship remain obstinate, I shall put forth my power. We 
know, he said, what this referred to; the exercise of 
Church discipline, whereby the offender was handed 
over to Satan, a sentence which would no doubt be rati- 
fied by God in the infliction of some bodily chastisement: 
Such was the immediate meaning, said the Canon, and 
it could not fail to strike me how complacently he ac- 
cepted this tremendously sacerdotal explanation ; but 
the Apostle rose from this to a great general truth, in 
following out which a gradual order was necessary. It 
was as important to believe in the true humanity as in 
the Deity of Christ. The true humanity of our Lord 
was as necessary a qualification for His being our 
Saviour as was His Godhead. Sin only excepted, as 
being no integral part of humanity, Christ was a real 
man. So we found in Him all the sinless weaknesses of 
humanity. A long journey, or a hot sun in that Eastern 
climate, had the same effect on Him as on any ordinary 
man. Except during the supernatural fast of forty days, 
His body was nourished with food like our own. So 
among the death agonies on the cross was included the 
deep thirst. All this culminated in the ability to die. 
Yet this was the leading idea ; underlying this were 
glimpses of power. He was so weak as to be unable 
to save Himself against a few soldiers sent to take Him, 
and yet they all fell to the ground. He said He could 
pray to His Father, who would send Him tvvelve legions 
of angels. So in the dream of Pilate's wife, there was 
an evidence of supernatural power at work. At His 


death there was the great symbolic incident of the 
rending of the temple-veil. All along there were 
glimpses of power in combination with weakness. Then 
we came to the Resurrection of Christ in power. Some- 
times the Resurrection was ascribed to the Father, as 
being the work of God on the Son of Man. Sometimes 
it was ascribed to, or claimed by, the Son. Jesus 
assumed the power of self-resurrection, when He said, 
' Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it 
up/ Under either aspect, it was an exercise of the 
power of God. Passing from Easter to Ascension- tide, 
we came upon a new phase of work, upon new offices, 
and a new energy of Christ. He undertook the effusion 
and diffusion of the Holy Spirit. He was the Great 
High Priest within the veil. Hence He was the source 
of life and author of salvation. Our life was hid with 
Christ in God. This applied not only to present, but 
future life, and would be consummated, when at Christ's 
second coming our bodies should be raised, and our 
souls brought from Hades or Paradise. Life in Holy 
Scripture was a great word, and embraced both these 
stages. Paul never wrote a grander truth than that 
' your life is hid with Christ in God/ We must under- 
stand that all life out of Christ was only death intel- 
lectual, physical, social, or political. There was no life 
before God, save that which was lived by union with 

Thus we might pass on to the immediate subject 
under consideration. We had got at a principle. We 
had evolved a law, apparently paradoxical, as many of 
God's laws were, of combined power and weakness in 
the Gospel. We saw the law at work in Christ's own 
ministry. Weak as He was, He cured disease by a 
touch, gave sight to the blind, made the deaf to hear 
and the dumb speak, cast out devils, raised the dead, 
and by the moral force of His utterances, made those 
who were sent to take Him say, ' Never man spake as 
this man/ It was so afterwards. It was an insignifi- 
cant handful of men sent out to convert the world ; and 
yet, as Paley said, they overthrew every idol and temple. 


They paraded their own disgrace by preaching Jesus 
Christ and Him crucified. As a great preacher, still in 
God's mercy spared to us, said, this was, in plain, honest 
English, preaching a man who had been hung. Of 
course this was a stumblingblock to Jew and Greek. 
And so it was still power in combination with weak- 
ness. ' What,' he asked, ' can we do by our preaching ? 
We have no more power to convert your souls than we 
have to stand at a grave and tell a dead man to rise. 
We are simply agents, and here is the law again dis- 
cernible the weakness of man working, but at the 
back of it the power of God. We can only keep clear 
of the devil and disgrace by the same grace as stands in 
stead the weakest of those we address/ Passing on 
thence to the object of his special appeal, Canon Miller 
said if his hearers knew anything of the Moravians, they 
would be aware that this law of which he had been 
speaking never had a more marvellous illustration. 
Their origin took us back beyond the Eeformation, and 
they had been almost extinguished by the cruelty of 
Ilome ; but in the eighteenth century they revived. 
They possessed in a special degree the two marks of an 
Apostolic church, missionaries and martyrs. There had 
been no such missionaries since the time of the Apostles 
as the Moravians. This was no transitory effervescence, 
but a staid missionary spirit. They were, in fact, a 
warning to us that if there was life in our Church it 
must take this shape of mission-work. As an instance 
of their self-denying zeal, he quoted the case of two 
Moravian missionaries, who were ready to sell them- 
selves as slaves, so as to get at slaves. They were 
working amongst the very lowest class of Hotten- 
tots, and even amongst the lepers in the East. A 
Moravian brother and sister were in attendance at a 
hospital, devoted to this most loathsome of diseases. 
Eor a hundred and two years their ship, the f Harmony,' 
had gone out year after year to the icy regions of the 
far North. It might not be deemed superstitious if he 
took this as a sign that God blessed their work. They 
had been in friendly communion with the Church of 


England for many years. There was this special ad- 
vantage in helping the Moravians that, when it could 
be done without sacrificing fundamental principles, it 
vras good to help others. No large-hearted Christian 
would grudge assistance to those who had been so 
markedly helped by God, in their great work of evan- 
gelizing the world. 

It was, I confess, a new sensation to hear a clergyman 
more especially a dignitary of the Church of England 
plead the cause of a body other than the Establishment. 
We are living in strange times, when all sorts of time- 
honoured institutions are becoming obsolete. Possibly, 
though it sounds Utopian to say so, our remote descend- 
ants may live to see grown into an anachronism the 
now too prevalent odium, theologicum. At least, I 
seemed to get some far-off glimpses of such a millennium, 
when I listened, that quiet Thursday evening, to Canon 
Miller on the Moravians. 


Liberal Churchman is always fain to protest when 
-I- he is obliged to use the words orthodox and unor- 
thodox. Make the terms as elastic as he mav, the writer 

/ * 

who employs them introduces of necessity a theological, 
if not a polemical, element into what may profess, and 
honestly essay, to be only a descriptive account of serv- 
ice or sermon. But surely it is possible to look at these 
matters in a social, and not at all in a theological way. 
It is so I endeavour to make my Sunday excursions 
among the different places of worship in London, revers- 
ing the motto, ' Measures, not men/ and singling out 
for notice men of mark, no matter to what body they 
belong. Though having, of course, my own opinions, 


and holding them, I dare say, as tenaciously as other 
people, I am for the nonce innocent of all distinction 
between orthodoxy and heterodoxy. My mind is a 
tabula rasa prepared to receive impressions, come ther 
whencesoever they may. It was in such a spirit I 
scanned one Saturday evening the ecclesiastical bills of 
fare for the morrow. Should I go and hear Canon 
Lightfoot demolish the drama at St James's, Piccadilly, 
or Father Ignatius discourse on ' Nineteenth Century 
Devils' at St George's Hall ? Should the Eev. Capel 
Molyneux entice me. to a 'Liturgical Service/ or Mr 
Yoysey allure me with his ' Sling and Stone ' ? The 
world of ecclesiastical London was all before me where 
to choose my place of rest. My only difficulty was an 
embarras de richesses, but I finally decided in favour of 
Mr Stopford Brooke, at York Chapel, St James's, who 
for several Sundays had been lecturing on Theology in 
Shelley, and on the preceding Lord's Day had com- 
menced an equally untheological poet, as far as popular 
estimation goes namely, Lord Byron. That particular 
Sunday was to be devoted to the study of Cain ; and it 
struck me that to get theology out of either Byron or 
Cain was a somewhat hopeless task ; but to get it out of 
the two together out of Cain as represented by Byron 
was about as original an idea as the extraction of 
poetry out of Coke upon Lyttleton, or Stephens's edi- 
tion of Blackstone, would be. 

Unsightly as to its exterior, York Chapel, St James's, 
looks within like a Quaker establishment, so uncompro- 
misingly drab has it been painted over every square inch 
of its surface. It is ugly and old-fashioned, with cavern- 
ous pews, and queer oil-lamps slung up at rare inter- 
vals. An effort has been made to adapt it to modern 
taste by squeezing a few oaken stalls into the chancel, 
but they look out of place, and over the little depressed 
altar rises a funny basso relievo like a miniature Parthe- 
non. There are capacious galleries all round, and the 
front of these, as well as the roof of the building, is co- 
vered all over with fidgety little drab festoons. But then 
one did not come to York Street for architectural. beau- 


ties. A goodly congregation filled the douche-baths of 
pews, and by and by a tiny procession of surpliced boys 
and men only a half-dozen in all came from the west 
end of the chapel to the oaken stalls, and in its rear fol- 
lowed Mr Brooke, who took his place in a stall too, and 
read a very short form of evening prayer, the choir re,- 
sponding musically, though somewhat too ambitiously 
for their slender numbers. Daring the whole of this 
service, which was evidently looked upon as only pre- 
liminary to the lecture, people kept dropping in, and 
by the time it was over the basement was full. There 
was a far larger proportion of men than one generally 
sees in a congregation, but an adequate contingent of 
ladies too, and I could not see that they looked in the 
least strong-minded females. 

Having ascended the pulpit in surplice, hood, and 
stole, Mr Brooke read the staple collect, ' Prevent us, 
Lord,' &c., and then proceeded to his subject. Byron, 
he said, was less interesting then Shelley, because he 
was more selfish and personal. Shelley's range was 
larger and more human. With him personal theology 
was a secondary matter. He argued, If the whole of 
humanity be right, I, as part of it, shall be right. If God 
Himself is just, He will be just to me. That was how Shel- 
ley would have spoken had he been a Christian.- Shelley 
was always going out of himself for man ; but in Byron 
the interest was overridden by his gigantic personality. 
He was interesting, as all vivid self-representation must 
be. It was, in fact, a curious question why we did not 
weary of finding Byron over and over again in his works. 
We should weary if he were not so intensely modern, so 
thoroughly of the present day. In describing himself he 
described so much more than himself. He was a type 
of his own modern world. Shelley represented men as 
he thought they ought to be, and the world as he be- 
lieved it might be ; and so, in proportion as people were 
practical or ideal, they would prefer Byron or Shelley 
respectively. Shelley had to speak or his heart to break ; 
but he lost self in the expression of his deepest self 
the very highest mark of genius. Byron seemed always 


to retreat from the canvas to see how self looked when 
he had painted it. 

. The fatalistic theology of Calvinism in which Byron 
was brought up encouraged this self-contemplation. 
Dooming a great portion of the world to destruction, it 
produced either despair or indignation. Some natures 
it made take pride in their isolation, and say, f Fate, I 
thank thee I am not as other men, believers.' This type 
of character had its representation in Cain. The man 
was filled with this dark, haughty, indignant pride. The 
theory of Shelley was that, when he passed away, his 
individuality would be lost ; and, however infidel this 
doctrine might be, it was far less selfish than Calvinism. 
It could not lead to Pharisaism. It would have been 
impossible for Shelley to have written Cain. .There was 
the widest difference between that and his ' Prometheus 
Unbound.' Again, there was in Byron a belief in ori- 
ginal guilt, in an infection of nature which could not be 
got rid of unless God interfered. Shelley said all that 
was evil in him was of the nature of an usurper, and 
could be got rid of. He was in this respect infinitely 
nearer Christianity than Byron, even without believing 
in original sin. 

Cain was a vivid concentration in one poem of the 
rssults of such a doctrine. Others might rest satisfied 
with the Augustinian theory ; but Cain felt all the un- 
solved problems What was evil ? Why was there 
death ? - Why did God make us so cruelly ? What sort 
of a God could He be ? This gave us a most interesting 
insight into the character of Byron. If he did not feel 
these doubts, he evidently sympathized with those who 
did, for they recurred continually in his poems. And 
the temperament of Cain was, the lecturer said, common 
now as pebbles in the field. It was a direct result of 
Calvinism ; and scarcely a week passed but he was 
brought face to face with such questionings. At their 
very root lay the .fatalism of the Calvinistic system, and 
the' doctrine of original sin. How could a man feel, who 
believed, and yet detested, those doctrines ? Of all things 
said by pious people to sceptics, the most foolish was 


that scepticism was a crime ; whereas it was only the 
logical inference from Low Church theology. 

How often men said this ' God's power is His only 
law. I am condemned for Adam's sin, and I am bound 
to say it is just. Is power necessarily good ? Why 
was I born ? I did not ask to be. I will not bear it 
patiently. There is nothing for me to love/ What 
wonder was it that men rushed into Infidelity and Athe- 
ism ? Their noblest feelings were outraged, and there 
were only two courses, either to find a nobler theology 
or to become like Cain. And yet Byron rightly re- 
presented Cain as good and lovable. Adam simply did 
not think of these things; but Cain did. And when 
this was said the dogmatic answer came that all these 
traits of character were not good were only splendid 
sins. ' I call that detestable teaching/ said Mr Brooke, 
'to look on the good and call it evil. It is the sin 
against the Holy Ghost/ 

What wonder, he asked, if men rushed into immorality 
when the power of loving God was taken from them, and 
they felt compelled to hate God ? The whole soul became 
devilish, because God was represented as a devil ; and 
no channel being left for the highest love, the whole 
man turned to the intellectual sphere. If he cannot love 
he will know. There could be 110 rest until all was clear 
to the intellect. God was made hideous by a dreadful 
theology, and the love of God being gone, only thirst 
for knowledge remained ; but intellect could not touch 
these questions. And yet this was the common position 
of educated men. It was nothing less than a mutilation 
of their humanity. The only remedy was a teaching of 
theology which would enable men to love God again. 
It seemed as though Byron wished to teach that know- 
ledge without love gave only increased power of doing 
ill. Lucifer gibed against Cain's love for Adah and his 
child, and nothing could be finer than the fight of human 
affection against the tempter. But the mischief was 
done. Human love was overwhelmed ; Cain lived years 
in hours. At last all reverence, faith, love, and hope were 
gone. In Abel he found once more the representative of 


apathetic piety, and the deed was done. At last lie knew 
what death was. f Look on that deed/ he concluded, 
' you who are teaching doctrines that take all the good- 
ness out of God, and ask yourselves what you are 

Strong words, perhaps ; but words that set one 
thinking*. Dainty carriages waited to convey the hearers 
home, and bearded men passed out of the queer little 
slum my chapel with signs of thought upon their brow 
other than those that often mark the hearers of sermons. 
For the life of me I could not help thinking as I passed 
up Piccadilly and saw the throngs coming out of St 
James's after Canon Lightfoot's diatribe against the 
drama, I wonder how many Cains there were in those 
congregations ! 


is a seeming disadvantage in the adoption of 
JL a title such as mine, for it appears to cut one off 
from the consideration of individuals or societies which 
fail to satisfy the arbitrary definition of orthodoxy, or 
the reverse, based on their conformity or nonconformity 
with the National Church. The seeming drawback, 
however, is more than compensated by a real advantage. 
In these days of railroad speed, it is something to have 
selected titles which shall at once attract readers to 
subjects likely to be congenial with their tastes, and 
warn them off from contrary topics. Without for one 
moment venturing to define orthodoxy or heterodoxy, 
or to pronounce in favour of one or the other, the titles 
have been all along used in the most vague and popular 
manner, as implying only connection on the one hand, 
or nonconformity on the other, with the Church of 
England as by law established. Now whilst to a large, 


and perhaps increasing, body of readers the mere absence 
of such conformity constitutes a bond of sympathy, there 
is another and far from inconsiderable class who limit 
their interest in religious questions of the day within 
the bounds of the Church of England who simply, 
without of necessity being bigoted or exclusive, feel 
their sympathies bound up indissolubly with the National 
Church, in the more restricted sense of the word, having 
neither time nor inclination to busy themselves with 
those numerous bodies and widely varying schools of 
religious thought which lie outside. 

Some years ago, during the progress of the now 
historic ' Twelve Days' Mission/ religious London was 
startled out of its complacency by the tidings that the 
mantle of YVhitfield had fallen upon the shoulders of a 
young preacher in the Established Church the Rev. 
George Body, then curate of St Peter's Church, Wol- 
verhampton. There was more than the mere fact to 
render such a phenomenon worthy of notice ; for this 
rare gift of preaching was found in connection with a 
school of thought in the Church which had, rightly or 
wrongly, been supposed to depreciate in some degree 
the use of preaching, and to rest rather on the sacer- 
dotal and sacramental functions of its ministers. The 
locale of Mr Body's ministrations was the unlikely one 
of All Saints', Margaret Street. Two gentlemen only 
if even these had essayed to ' prelude the way ' in 
which Mr Body was going : Dr Evans, now rector of 
St Mary's-in- the- Strand, and formerly evening lecturer 
at St Andrew's, Wells Street ; and Mr Stanton, of St 
Alban's, Holborn. But Mr Body appeared to many to 
combine in a remarkable degree the qualifications of 
each of these gentlemen; the clear logical precision 
and pure eloquence which drew sach large congrega- 
tions to hear Dr then Mr Evans, at Wells Street, 
and the unmistakable zeal and impetuosity which 
marked, and still mark, Mr Stanton's preaching at St 
Alban's, Holborn. Such, in brief, are the public ante- 
cedents, during the last few years, of the somewhat 
noteworthy gentleman whose sermon I have selected 


for my present paper. It should be added that, presum- 
ably in recognition of his powers as exhibited during 
the Mission, an ecclesiastical benefice was at once 
offered to Mr Body by Lord Faversham, and by him 
declined ; but he has since accepted preferment at the 
hands, I believe, of the same patron. 

The following announcement in a clerical paper ap- 
peared to me to mark a noteworthy epoch in current 
Church history, and, at the same time, to afford a good 
opportunity for a notice of Mr Body : ' All Saints', 
Margaret Street, Wednesday next. Festival of St 
Luke. A service for the Brotherhood of St Luke, the 
Physician and Evangelist, will be held at seven P.M., 
with a sermon by the Rev. George Body. The Brother- 
hood will hold a conference after the service on the 
means of promoting the moral and spiritual welfare of 
medical students. Students, practitioners, and others 
interested in the subject are requested to attend/ 
Accordingly, long before the appointed time I made my 
way to Margaret Street, and as early as a quarter-past 
six I found a considerable crowd assembled at the doors 
of the church. Of course, the ladies were in the 
majority, though I am free to confess that I do not 
believe all, if any, of those ladies were either medical 
practitioners or medical students. By the time the 
service commenced the sexes were pretty evenly 
balanced, and the congregation was large, though not 
crowded. There was a fair sprinkling of those who 
looked like medical men, and a few who might pass for 
medical students, -but scarcely the type, pur et simple, 
who will probably gain their first information of the 
proceedings from these pages. The ' Brethren of St 
Luke ' if such they were are a very exceptional order 
of medical students indeed quite a new creation since 
the days of Mr Bob Sawyer and Mr Benjamin Allen. 
The service was an ordinary choral one, of no very 
ornate character. The clergy, six in number, including 
the Rev. A. H. Mackonochie, Rev. Upton Richards, and 
the preacher, were habited in short surplices with red 
stoles, and walked in procession from the vestry, pre- 


ceded by a cross-bearer. The processional hymn was 
' Onward, Christian soldiers/ sung to a tune from one 
of Haydn's symphonies. 

At the conclusion of Evensong Mr Body ascended 
the pulpit and preached, at considerable length, from 
the text, Colossians iv. 14, 'Luke, the beloved physi- 
cian.-' He first proceeded to sketch briefly the few 
particulars known of the life of him whom, by a singular 
lapsus, he once or twice during the discourse termed 
the Apostle and Evangelist. St Luke was born, he 
said, probably at Antioch, which was midway between 
the great medical schools of Alexandria and Cilicia, at 
one of which he no doubt received his education. 
Tradition made him belong to the Seventy Disciples, 
and even fixed on him as one of the two met by Christ 
on the road to Emmaus ; but the opinion of Tertullian 
was probably nearer the truth, when it set down St 
Luke as the convert of St Paul at Antioch. His subse- 
quent history was not known, neither could it be 
positively asserted that he died a martyr's death ; but, 
wherever and however he died, he died ( enveloped in 
the odour of sanctity.' St Luke had special qualifica- 
tions for that companionship with St Paul which we 
find running through the Acts of the Apostles. In the 
first place, he could share Paul's sympathy with Gentile 
converts ; and secondly, he had, like St Paul himself, a 
liberal education. - So was it that he was chosen to give 
St Paul's gospel to the world. In that gospel there 
were evident traces not only of the liberal, but even of 
the medical, character of his training. ' Whilst this 
man was practising a profession like yours,' said Mr 
Body, addressing specially the medical element in his 
congregation, f a vision burst over his path, which, 
without removing him from his former calling, sent 
him forth to advance the cause of Jesus and the good 
of human souls. This is the picture Luke's life affords 
us the physician's life lived, the physician's toil toiled, 
beneath the shadow of the throne of God.' Dwelling 
on the fact that St Luke did not abandon his profession 
after his conversion, the preacher asked why should he 


give up that ' grand profession?' Where could he 
realize a better idea of creaturely that is, of angelic- 
existence, toiling for man with the gaze fixed on God ? 
After drawing a graphic picture of the nobleness of the 
physician's calling, he set down as the ideal of that 
calling the toil for man's good with ' the gaze riveted 
on the face of God/ There were, he said, many special 
reasons for endeavouring to realize this great ideal. 
Nothing could be more disastrous for society, for the 
Church, or for medical men themselves, than a divorce 
between their calling and faith in God. First as to 
society, he reminded his hearers how they had entrance 
into English homes from palace to cottage, and how 
their position made them confessors to whom burdened 
hearts were opened. If their influence was to be 
healthy, the moral character of the profession must be 
kept up. Let the suspicion of that mental sin of which 
we were beginning to recognize the possibility exist, 
and, though the door might still be open to the medical 
man for the sake of his skill, he would no longer be the 
friend or confessor, but only the servant of the public. 
This would be the case if science was divorced . from 
religion. His hearers might be inclined to tell him 
that some of the leaders in so-called liberal thought 
had, to a certain extent, made this divorce ; but these, 
he would remind them/ were exceptional men, and you 
could not expect from the majority of medical men and 
students, any more than you could from the general 
body of the clergy, those powers of restraint which 
exist in a few prominent individuals. You must expect 
only a moderate degree of moral as of intellectual 
strength. There were special temptations incidental to 
the medical calling more than to any other. There was, 
then, only a moderate degree of strength to be expected, 
and there were ' intense temptations.' Individual 
morality, therefore, must be secured by supernatural 
motives. So, too, with regard to the Church. St Luke 
was the companion and helper of St Paul; and it was 
only a truism to remark what a blessing in a populous 
parish was a medical man who would pity the priest, 


and labour with him. 'You/ he said, 'can drop the 
word of warning' when danger is at hand; and immedi- 

. ately the barred door is opened to the priest opened 
through your casual word/ 

There were two. ways especially in which members 
of their profession might help the priest. First : In 
a study which must force itself on the mind of the 
priest more and more every day namely, the ' Patho- 
logy of the Spirit/ He was convinced that disease was 
in almost all cases a type of sin. There were palsies 
and dropsies and fevers of the spirit as well as of the 
body. ' The principles on which you would deal with 
the body would help me in dealing with the soul. 
There must be laws of spiritual as well as of natural 
pathology. You/ he added, ' can be our masters, 
whilst we are classifying the diseases of the spirit, if 
you will only meet us on the ground of faith in a 
common Master/ Secondly : There was another point 
in which the medical man could aid the priest namely, 
in discriminating those diseases incidental to times of 
religious revival. Mr Body instanced the cases of the 
Flagellants in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and 
the Irish revival a few years ago ; and said that, as our 
mission work proceeded, we should probably meet more 

. of these .phenomena. Here the medical man might 
help the priest, who was often puzzled to know where 
the spiritual manifestations ended and the physical 
beg*an. But to do so the medical nmn must believe in 
the supernatural. Only from the medical man who was 
the child of faith could the priest accept guidance. 
Lastly, as to medical men and students themselves, and 
the dignity of their calling : tracing this from its 
earliest mention in Egypt, where the physician embalmed 
the body of Jacob, the preacher indulged in a quotation 
from Homer on the subject : 

ir}, TQ TrXeTora (pepti ^iSwpog apovpa 
0ap/zaica, TroXXd [jtsv iaQ\a fjiepiyfieva, TroXXa Sk \vypa' 

EKOtOTOf 67Tl(7ra^l>0 TTSpl TTUVTIDV 

v' r) yap llairjovoQ tiai yevaOXqg' 

Odyssey, iv. 229232. 


In tlie Incarnate this ideal of the physician was 
realized. It was for the medical profession to extend 
His ministry to these times and to this land. He went 
about healing sickness and disease. They were tread- 
ing in His very steps. They were God's own ' natural 
priests/ Their gifts were like the ' orders ' of the 
priest ; their medicines God-given medicines like 
the holy bread and the chalice. The surgery was God's 
own temple, the table God's altar, the drugs were 
visible signs of God's own sacraments, they themselves 
God's own priests. If this grand ideal was to be 
realized, they must be clean, as those who bear the 
vessels of God. 

Finally, it might be asked, how ? There was only 
one way : the Son of Mary. A motive was wanted ; 
a sacrifice had to be made, especially on the part of 
medical students. .The preacher had been privileged 
to see something of their life. If they were going to 
live for God, some good, strong motive was necessary 
to enable them to resist temptation. Power and grace 
were needed. ' Go to the blessed Sacrament,' he said, 
' and thou shalt have strength to realize thine ideal.' 
Nay, a deeper need was met. Some young man might, 
say, ' How dare I come to Christ ? ' 'I almost wish,' 
said the preacher, in this most effective portion of his 
address, ' that I only had one-half of my congregation 
here ' alluding to the presence of the ladies e so that 
I could speak of things I dare not speak of now. Bat 
I would stake my life there is some young man here 
now who, in the power of sin and uncleanness, feels it 
impossible to love God. "How can I love God," he 
asks, " when my flesh is defiled, when my thoughts are 
unclean, and poison my very rest at night ? I can't 
live for my God. Unclean ! unclean ! " He can meet 
it. He can meet even that case. He can bring a clean 
thing out of an unclean. I know it. Pie des it day 
by day. Put yourselves under the discipline of penance. 
Confess. Come to the pure Son of Mary. So shall 
your soul be cleansed in the crimson tide that flows 


from Jesus, and you shall be emancipated from the 
power of this horrid sin/ 

The sermon was concluded by an eloquent appeal to 
young men to join the Brotherhood of St Luke. A 
conference of the fraternity was held in the schoolroom 
after service, and the offerings in the church were 
appropriated to the All Saints' Convalescent Home at 


FOR those situated at either pole of the ecclesiastical 
hemisphere. May is eminently a religious month. 
With the ' Catholic ' it is the Mois de Marie, the month 
he consecrates to his ideal womanhood. With the 
Evangelical Protestant it is the Mois de Meetings, devoted 
to Exeter Hall and much speaking. It is a time when 
passers along the Strand see unctuous gentlemen in- 
tensely in earnest go in and out at those portals of 
Orthodoxy. Country parsons of Evangelical ' persuasion ' 
time their visit to Babylon then, when it is leavened with 
the little leaven of Gospel ministry, sadly inadequate to 
leaven its whole lump, seething as it is with the opposite 
elements of Rationalism and Romanism, and all the other 
minor isms that ecclesiastical flesh is heir to. Then the 
Church and Conventicle meet together, the Platform and 
the Pulpit kiss each other. The Record is in large 
demand, and the Rock runs into special editions. The 
hearts of Evangelical London in general, and of Evan- 
gelical spinsters in particular, are in a flutter of excite- 
ment. And in that, which might seem to be specially 
termed the year ' of grace/ 1873, the excitement was 
special too. There was a creme de la cr/me of orthodoxy 
present in the metropolis, a sublimer height than the 


Hall of Exeter ; it was St George's Hall, Langham 
Place, where was found the very centre and focus of 
Evangelical truth. Synchronizing by no mere coin- 
cidence, but by studied arrangement with the period of 
the May meetings, a series of conferences was organized 
for considering those tremendous clauses of the Evan- 
gelical creed, the nearness of the Second Advent, and 
the fulfilment of Prophecy in current history. I write 
these words in no spirit of levity. They are tremendous 
clauses, and this school of religious thought holds them 
with a fearful tenacity. No one could be present, as I 
was, at the opening conference on Monday, May 5th, 
without feeling that these doctrines had become ingrained 
in the very being of the speakers, as one spoke of his 
forty, another of his three and twenty years' study of 
them. With their earnest grip of doctrines, though we 
cannot accept them, we still, from our standpoint, must 
sympathize if we are consistent. It is only where, from 
individual conviction, they pass into indiscriminate 
denunciation of all who differ from them that we feel 
equally bound to part company with them. To this 
opening conference I went, then ; and I have a particular 
reason for stating under what circumstances I went. In 
obedience to publicly advertised announcements I com- 
municated to the secretary my wish to be present, add- 
'ing and it is to this fact I draw particular attention 
that my object in coining was to write an account of the 
proceedings for a London newspaper. From that gentle- 
man a clergyman of the Church of England I received 
a courteous reply, informing me which would be the best 
evenings to suit my purpose, and enclosing a dozen 
tickets of admission these tickets, be it also observed, 
being publicly offered for sale. This I took as a per- 
mission to write on the subject of the Conference, and 
engaged to do so. When I entered the hall I found a 
goodly assemblage already gathered, the act-drop being 
raised, and a pious parlour-scene set, with table, green 
cloth, conventional water-bottle, and Glastonbury chair 
for the president. I had always looked upon Glastonbury 
chairs as rather ' High.' As I went in, I was asked by a 


polite attendant, if I would take a seat on the platform. I 
declined, and I think a glance at my M.B. waistcoat, 
showed him he had made a faux pas. But still, though he 
wore a splendid blue rosette, he showed me to a front 
place, and gave me a copy of the hymns that were g'oing* 
to be sung. I wonder whether he would have done, so 
if I had been honestly labelled Broad Churchman. An 
elderly gentleman with a firmly-set mouth, and no voice 
to speak of, took the chair, and gave out a hymn which 
a stentorian clergyman on his right immediately voci- 
ferated, and all the audience or congregation (I never 
know which to call them) took up full-mouthed. As I 
looked up on the platform or back upon the assemblage 
I could not help contrasting the gathering with what 
I had seen at the shrine of Mr Voysey or Professor 
Clifford. There is satire apart noticeable in such a 

' A certain curling of the nether lip, 
A certain raising of the nose's tip,' 

which are quite sui generis. A gentleman, whose name 
I did not learn, offered up prayer and asked for a blessing 
on the f gethering ; and the ' brethren ' who were to 
speak. Then the chairman read a few verses from 
Matt, xxv., about ' Foolish Virgins,' which I thought 
might possibly have seemed personal to some present, 
only nobody could hear him. He then made a remark- 
able request to the effect that, if any newspaper reporters 
were present, they would refrain from noticing the pro- 
ceedings. I immediately entered a silent protest against 
such a request, by taking my notes cor am publico more 
than ever, not only because I felt myself bound so to 
do, but because I saw two shorthand reporters com- 
missioned by the Conference, and located in a private 
box, reporting the whole proceedings verbatim. I did 
not see why they should enjoy a monopoly in a public 
meeting, so I continued to report proceedings, though 
I saw the eyes of the whole assembly fastened upon me 
as I did so. 
Mr Dibdin, a divine in a most orthodox dress-coat, then 


came to the front, and said that though, there be minor 
differences amongst Evangelicals, there were really no 
differences at all. This was not the case, for instance, 
between himself and a High Churchman. ' I think him an 
idolater, and he thinks me an infidel/ said Mr Dibdin. 
So/ too, with the Broad Churchman. He thinks the 
Bible a myth. Professor Jowett says, in ' Essays and 
Reviews/ that Christ made mistakes in quoting His own 
Scriptures. If the Broad Churchman was right, he 
must be wrong. His subject was that of a Personal 
Antichrist. Here there was room for great divergence 
of opinion. Was He'.a man, or was He the Papacy ? Now 
no one, he charitably observed, in the world had a 
greater hatred of the Papacy than himself. He believed 
Cecil was right when he called Popery the masterpiece of 
Satan. It was not even a corrupt Christianity, but ' a vile 
and devil-invented substitute for Christianity.-' He did 
not wish to be misunderstood (and I really don't think 
there was much danger ; for he was plain-spoken to a 
fault). He denied the claim of the Pope to be a Christian 
at all ; but yet he held that the Pope was not the Man 
of Sin. The most striking passage on this subject was 
2 Thess. ii. 3. Here it was not a system or succession 
of men spoken of, but one man. St Peter's at Home 
was not the ( Temple of God/ but a temple of devil- 
worship. There had been fanatics in that Synagogue of 
Satan, that Devil's Church, who held the Pope to be 
God ; but his own claim was that he was the ' Servant 
of the Servants of God/ On a certain day in the year 
(left conveniently vague by the speaker) he washed the 
feet of a lot of beggars; but still Mr Dibdin did not 
hold that even the assumption of infallibility amounted 
to saying that he himself was God. ' It seems to me ' 
such was ever the final appeal of this speaker ' that 
this must apply to some man possessed by the devil, who 
will say, " Christ is not God, I am God." ' He believed 
that soon we know not how soon such an one would set 
up himself as God, and find worshippers. He would not 
relv on false miracles, but would work real wonders, like 

t/ * * 

Jan lies and Jambres. He believed, moreover, that if 


such a man started as God to-morrow, he would find even 
Evangelicals to follow him. * I do not think/ he con- 
cluded, ' that the Pope is the Man of Sin, because he, at 
least, professes to be Christian ; but/ he concluded in 
an eloquent peroration, ' whatever we may think of the 
Man of Sin, we are all agreed as to the Man of Sorrows, 
we look forward to His Personal Reign, and pray in His 
own words, " Thy kingdom come." } 

After a brief prayer by a gentleman in blue spectacles, 
rejoicing in the ineuphonious name of Skrine, Dr Nolan 
took up as his proverb, ' The Second Advent, the central 
point of every promise, and the basis of every duty/ and 
very eloquently did he treat his great subject. He pro- 
tested mildly and sensibly against the veto laid on re- 
porters, possibly because he saw I was pursuing the even 
tenor of my way, and then went on to show how all 
mysteries culminated in the Second Advent ; the 
mystery of God manifest in the flesh ; and also the 
antagonistic mystery of sin. He differed from his ' dear 
brother ' Dibdin in thinking that mystery had an in- 
choate fulfilment in the Papacy. The sun never pho- 
tographed an object more plainly than the doctrine of 
infallibility and the syllabus described the state of things 
spoken of in 2 Thess. ii. Yet prophecy might be ' headed 
up/ as described by his ' dear brother.' Then there 
was the mystery of the Jew mystery meaning- a truth 
partially revealed and it being (as Robert Hall said) the 
glory of God to conceal things. If we knew nothing of 
God, there could be no association with Him. If we 
knew all, we should say He was only like ourselves. A 
limited horizon was best. Then there were the mysteries 
of the Gentile, and of the Church, and finally the mystery 
of the Resurrection. It had been objected that there 
was nothing practical in these views, but every grace 
was quickened by a reception of the doctrine. Among 
the ' thickening signs of the times ' there was no reason 
why Christ should not come to-day. Might it be ours 
when He said, ' Lo, I come quickly/ to reply, ' Even so ; 
come, Lord Jesus.' 

Another hymn was then sung, one of those strange 


doctrinal effusions which sound like a theological treatise 
in long metre. It was taken to the tune usually assigned 
to Keble's exquisite ' Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear/ 
and one could not help noticing the difference between 
the two compositions. The assembly sang it with one 
voice, like the old Puritans on the hill-sides, and in a slow 
measured cadence that was very impressive. Then 
followed a little amicable passage-at-arms as to who had 
got up the Conference. One gentleman said that Mr 
Skrine had taken all the liability on himself, and then Mr 
Skrine put in a modest disclaimer and said it was all Mr 
Baxter, and Dr Nolan said Mr Baxter was just the man 
to do such a good deed on the sly. The ladies sniggled 
at this, and the gentlemen applauded; and then Mr 
Haslam, the gentleman who had led the singing with the 
mouth of a Stentor, girded up his loins and began to 
speak. Some people did not believe in second conver- 
sions, he said, but he believed in third as well as second. 
We were converted once when we believed in the Christ 
of grace; again when we believed in Christ Himself; 
and yet again when we believed in Christ as our basis of 
hope. That was his subject 'Hope in the Second 
Advent/ He had once been spending a happy day in 
the country (it put one in mind of the Eosherville adver- 
tisements) with a ' dear brother;' and they had talked 
much about Jesus. The time came for them to part, and 
just as the train was coming up, his dear brother some- 
what eccentrically asked him if he believed Christ was 
coming. He said, e Yes ; } and his dear brother asked 
' What for ? > ' What for ? Why, to judge the quick and 
dead/ he replied. ' Oh no ! 3 said the dear brother, and 
then got into the train and went off, leaving him in a state 
of wonder as to what he meant to say. Soon after he re- 
ceived by post from his dear brother a book which made 
him understand his Bible for the first time. He had 
been brought up in that ' old Popish tale, ' that Christ 
was coming as Judge, but he had not yet looked on the 
Advent as the source of hope. He did not like to hear 
people talk of views or opinions about this. He could 
only think of it under the aspect of hope. Philanthro- 


pists wlio tried to better the world forgot the curse, for- 
got the blight there was upon all creation. Here the 
gentleman waxed so intensely earnest, that he made 
even that well-seasoned auditory smile, but he pursued 
the uneven tenor of his way to far greater length than I 
can follow him. He had immense copia verborwn, but 
singularly little to say. In fact, that was one great 
characteristic of the whole proceedings. Two or three 
more or less trite maxims summed up the whole doctrines 
brought forward, and each speaker had to fall back on 
quoting the last ' dear brother 3 who had spoken. Far 
from noticing or magnifying the minor differences be- 
tween the speakers, which had been the chairman's 
reason for tabooing reporters, and which I suppose made 
him look so cross at me all the evening because I pur- 
posely took my notes by way of protest, I was struck by 
the remarkable consensus, a circumstance which some- 
times threatened to reduce the meeting to a sort of 
Mutual Admiration Society. A slight skirmish, or a 
few words on the other side, would have been positively 
refreshing ; but the utmost limits of divergence among 
' the dear brethren ' were whether the Pope was the 
Man of Sin, or whether there was something coming 
worse than a Pope probably some ideal Broad Church- 
man, possibly a gigantic Dean Stanley or Professor 
Jowett. As Mr Haslam continued long speaking, I con- 
fess I felt inclined to the Eutychian heresy (as somebody 
has termed it), but his more than Pauline vehemence kept 
me awake. There were no signs of Christ's coming, 
except those which were analogous to the signs of sun- 
rise in the world of nature. When the sun was just 
about to appear above the horizon, we saw the light, we 
heard the song of birds. So was it now. Never was 
there so ' full ' a Gospel as at present ; never did the 
' birds of God ' whoever they may be sing as they 
sang now. This very energetic gentleman went all over 
his subject again two or three times, and then, discover- 
ing that time was up, subsided, and brought the length- 
ened proceedings to a close. Three gatherings were 
announced for the morrow, and Prayer and Benediction 


dismissed tlie assembly. It was only when I passed out 
that I could fairly assess its dimensions, and I perceived 
it had been, truly as the speakers described it, a noble 

One might not sympathize with all the views ex- 
pressed. One might not think those fifteen or sixteen 
rather amiable than intellectual-looking gentlemen on 
the platform represented a power likely to move the 
world ; but both they and the auditory, hugging their 
well-thumbed Bibles, were so evidently in earnest, that 
one forgot all else in that supreme fact. In one point 
the Evangelicals have succeeded to a miracle. They 
have practically disestablished the Church. I had no 
idea who were ' clergymen/ and who merely f ministers.'' 
They all had the gift of a common speech. What 
matter though it sound foreign to us ? What matter 
who it be High Churchman, Low Churchman, or 
Broad Churchman who shall revive the now obsolete 
comment, ' See how these Christians love one another ? ' 
We do not even call one another ' dear brother,' still 
less those outside our pale. Fancy the Archbishop of 
Canterbury talking of his ' dear brother ; Manning, or 
Dean Stanley openly parading his affectionate fraternity 
with Mr James Martineau. It may be all coming ; and 
possibly the first to give the impetus, and even to make 
it extend more millennially than they wish, shall be some 
such conclave as gathered for their Prophetical Con- 
ference in the pious parlour-scene on the stage of St 
George's Theatre. 



IT would be a curious subject of speculation to guess 
the different causes which operate to bring people out 
upon the flags of c stony-hearted London ' at six o' clock 
on a November morning. One class, indeed, there is 
the Bedouin of that desert whom, despite our Social 
Congresses, we always find there, and probably always 
shall find there. The morning sees him, or, worse still, 
sees her, where the night left each of them, on doorstep, 
under railway arch, or in some one of the many lairs 
where lurks the human animal whose misfortune it is to 
find itself f houseless by night/ There is yet another 
species of the genus homo always represented, too, in 
that inclement locality, no matter whether we make our 
observation in November or August, and this species 
will always be so represented whilst Babylon the Great 
is what she is the roysterer or debauchee sneaking 
home, red- eyed and hot-breathed. Then there are 
those whose occupations draw them from bed at un- 
timely hours; the ' professional ' early risers, such as 
the greengrocer, butcher, and fishmonger, going to or 
returning from the markets, rattling nimbly over the 
greasy, fog-damped stones in light spring-carts. There 
is the milkman, not now waking the echoes with his 
peripatetic caterwaul, but driving with dignity in a cart 
laden with cans which have just come in by an early 
train ; himself clad in a property smock-frock and hat 
labelled with some such intensely rustic title as ' The 
Vale of Taunton Dairy Company (Limited) .' There is, 
again, the British workman par excellence, no longer 
trudging off" with his basket of tools to walk to his 
'work/ but such is the levelling effect of our iron 
roads footing it quickly to the nearest station, to catch 


the 'workman's train/ There are the early breakfast 
people, and others whose occupations are called into 
existence by these involuntary early risers j and then 
come those eccentric folks, the voluntary early risers, who 
are up and out on the flags, not because they are obliged, 
but of their own free will. There is the mercilessly 
muscular Christian who takes his dip in the Serpentine, 
or his before-breakfast plunge at the bath, all the year 
round, and who goes along flaunting his towel as if to 
apprize everybody of the fact. There is the ' young 
man from, the country,' who, for the life of him, cannot 
get out of his bucolic habit of taking a mouthful of 
tresh air before breakfast, and who deludes himself that 
he is getting it amid the fog of a November morning in 
London. Between these two fixed poles, however, the 
people who have not been in bed at all, and the people 
who get up simply because they like it, there is a class, 
the special one now ' wanted ' the people who get up 
from duty rather than from inclination though still not 
from necessity ; the large and certainly growing popu- 
lation who attend early service, or ' first mass/ at the 
different London churches. A glance at the e Guide to 
Divine Service/ published by Mr Masters, will show 
those who are curious in such matters that more than 
one hundred churches in London have daily service, 
many of these at the small hours of the morning ; 
whilst in more than a dozen the Holy Communion is 
celebrated each morning. Many, if not most, of the 
latter, are advanced Ritualistic Churches, and the Holy 
Communion is so generally termed ' Mass } by those who 
attend them, that it has seemed to justify the heading 
of this article. Time was, of course, when that ex- 
pression, ' early mass/ would have applied only to a 
small section of our fellow-citizens, those to whom the 
term ' Catholic' would have been assigned as signifying 
members of the Romish Communion but, as all 
Anglicans now claim the title of Catholic, so they are 
beginning, at all events, to borrow the term ' mass ' for 
their Communion Service. The ' Anglo ' Catholics now 
go to ' mass ' as religiously as, and in much larger 


numbers than, their f Romish brethren ' went twenty- 
years ago. If any person would check this assertion, 
he has only to attend f early mass ; at one of the more 
advanced churches of London, such as All Saints', 
Margaret Street, or St Alban's, Holborn. 

I chose the former of these two churches as my locale, 
and the Festival of All Saints (November 1st) as the 
time for my observations. Setting out on the raw 
wintry morning, amid such sights and scenes as I have 
described, I found a few distressingly punctual people 
like myself awaiting the opening of the iron gates that 
lead into the imposing structure. Being at length ad- 
mitted, we saw that the church was decorated for what 
is, of course, as much the Festival of the year to the 
Margaret Street folks, as the Toussaint is abroad. The 
Church of All Saints is never over-decorated : what is 
done is sure to be in good taste. A wreath of white 
camellias was fixed upon the altar-cross, and upon the 
altar itself were six vases filled with flowers. The can- 
delabra on each side of the altar were also adorned with 
the richest floral decorations. A wreath- of flowers ran 
along the low marble screen which separates the chancel 
from the body of the church; and this was all, save 
that the banners were ranged against the chancel walls, 
ready for the high celebration at eleven o'clock. 

Soon after we had taken our places, a religieuse entered 
the chancel and removed the covering from the altar, 
making profound obeisance every time she had occasion 
to pass it. A fair congregation had assembled; and, 
exactly as the clock struck seven, a tall, red-bearded 
' priest,' clad in white silk vestments, entered with two 
chorister boys. He commenced, in a low monotone, 
the ordinary Communion Service of the Church of 
England, from which there was no deviation whatever 
no hymns or music of any kind. The only points 
noticeable in the demeanour of the congregation, 
beyond extreme reverence, were the kneeling at the 
clause in the Nicene Creed which refers to the Incarna- 
tion, the crossing of themselves at that portion which 
asserts belief in the 'life of the world to come/ and 


prostration during the act of consecrating the elements. 
One matronly lady in the front seat was absolutely 
prone on the ground at this, which is, of course, the 
climax of the solemnity. The position of the celebrant 
was in front of the altar, with his back to the people, 
and the elevation of the elements was as undisguised 
as though no Mackonochie case had ever been decided. 
Just after the Prayer for the Church Militant, a second 
priest entered from the vestry, took his place in the 
stalls, and assisted in the administration, leaving im- 
mediately at its conclusion, and before the Post-Com- 
munion. There may be some occult meaning in this ; 
but to the uninstructed it looks slightly irreverent to 
see the priest defer presenting himself until the last 
moment, and at the first opportunity take off his stole 
and leave the church. I am ' ill at numbers/ as Shak- 
speare says ; but there must have been, I should think, 
some two hundred people at this early Communion or 
1 early mass/ and I still speak vaguely about in the 
proportion of one man to five or six women. There 
were forty-one Sisters of Mercy, and a great many of 
the girls from their schools, and so forth. Nearly all 
this congregation communicated; and, to judge from 
some of the girls with the Sisters, there must be con- 
siderable laxity as to the age for confirmation, for some 
were mere children. The men communicated first, then 
the women, then the religieuses, and lastly the children. 
As the forty- one Sisters filed up the centre aisle to- 
wards the altar, kneeling whenever there was a pause, 
the grouping of the sombre habits, in the dimly- 
lighted church and amidst the stillness of early morn- 
ing, was most effective. There was a blind man led to 
the altar, and another sorely paralyzed, who had to be 
supported ; as had also one of the Sisters, whose thin 
white face peered out from her black veil as she was 
led back tottering to her seat. There seemed few 
poor, except domestic servants; but then it must be 
remembered that the All Saints' congregation is a 
special and mostly a wealthy one, so that the 
absence of the poor by no. means proves that the 



sacramental system, as it is there carried out, does 
not tell upon the lower classes. I myself have never 
seen many poor even at St Alban's ; but the fact has 
probably resulted from deficient opportunities of ob- 

The ceremony lasted until nearly eight o'clock, and 
then the bell began to ring out for the second celebra- 
tion, which would still be followed by a third at eleven. 
At the same time the bell of St Andrew's, Wells Street, 
was tolling for early celebration there. What would 
our grandfathers and grandmothers, in good old 
soporific times, have said to all this ? Truly there 
is vitality, at all events, in this movement. People do 
not face November fogs at dawn without meaning 
something by it. We form a very superficial idea of 
the genius of Bitualism if we judge it only by seeing 
young ladies and gentlemen go to choral service at 
easy hours with pretty gilt crosses on their Prayer 
Books. There were few young gentlemen or young 
ladies at this early mass, and I saw no pretty gilt 
crosses at all. The congregation was largely composed 
of steady middle-aged men and matrons. Whatever 
else it might be, the service was intensely real. Much 
as the Ritualist mislikes the word ' Protestant/ he 
does protest, and that with justice, against the idea 
that ceremonial is everything, or even the principal 
thing, in his worship. Its essence is the doctrine of the 
Real Presence in the Eucharist. Accept that, and an 
ornate ritual follows as a thing of course. Here, how- 
ever, there was no ornate ritual or sensuous adjunct of 
any kind ; but one could not help feeling that there 
were life and earnestness ; while the simplicity of the 
Anglican Communion Service contrasts well with the 
cumbrous complications of the Roman Mass. It is a 
pity to transfer the 'name. It does well enough for 
Father Ignatius, in a religious novel, to call the Com- 
munion Service the ' Mass according to Dr Cranmer ; ' 
but even in its highest form of development the Com- 
munion Service differs toto coelo from the Roman Mass. 
There was possibly much in this service with which 


an ordinary plain-sailing ' Church of England man' 
would fail to sympathize ; but there was no excitement, 
nothing he would dare to call ' mummery/ only pro- 
found reverence for what the worshippers consider 
the central mystery of religion. Those who would 
honestly study the real essence of Ritualism will do 
well to avoid f high masses ' with full bands and pro- 
cessions, and make their observations as I did on All 
Saints' Day, quietly and calmly, at a morning celebra- 
tion or ' early mass/ 


>EINGr a Broad- Church clergyman, at that time in 
easy harness, I was honestly anxious to discover 
whether the sudden f special attack on sin and Satan ' 
on the part of the Church of England, organized some 
years ago, was simply spasmodic or a sign of real 
vitality. 1 had no preconceived ideas on the subject, 
though I may say frankly I did not like the idea of 
the Confessional grafted on the originally colourless 
scheme so innocently 'sanctioned by the Bishop of 
London. Still, if a good end be gained, it is the ex- 
treme of folly to quarrel about the means. The question 
to be settled was whether this ' Guerre de Douze Jours ' 
will do Satan any harm. If it did not do him harm 
it would do him good in its .recoil. I propose to 
chronicle diary- wise my experiences of as many of 
these mission- services as a somewhat busy life enabled 
me to attend. 


I went to the eight o'clock service at St Mary 
Magdalene's, Paddington, taking with ine (imprud- 



ently, as it appeared,) a lady. Determined to "be in. 
time we got to the cimrch nearly half-an-hour before 
service. We sat down, after the heathen custom pre- 
valent in Ritualistic churches, exactly as desired 
myself on one side, my companion on the other, some- 
what in front, that is, near the pulpit. I was much 
struck with the number of poor persons, not only 
women but men, who came in. Perhaps they looked 
a little too much polished up for the occasion, like the 
shiny apples so disagreeably suggestive of pocket- 
handkerchiefs at an old woman's stall. Their evident 
acquaintance with the pious middle-aged ladies in 
poke bonnets seemed also significant. However, there 
they were, where under ordinary circumstances they 
would not be in church. That was something, at all 
events. After waiting about a quarter of an hour, a 
tall individual in a cassock, who did not seem at all 
at home in that inconvenient garment, stalked down 
the aisle and picked out all the well-dressed ladies, 
requesting them to retire to the back of the church, so 
as to allow the poor and ill- clad to be within easy 
range of the pulpit. My companion being thus obliged 
to retire, I retired too, to a corresponding position on 
the men's side, sitting humbly in a delicious draught 
at the west end, since it seemed that I had no need 
to be preached at, and the poor people had. I was 
mistaken, however. Before I had been seated five 
minutes, another individual requested me to remove 
to the position I had just left. I suppose he thought 
I did require to be preached at. I demurred, as I 
did not like to leave a lady at the extreme opposite 
end of a crowded church. A third active if not in- 
telligent officer, however, insisted upon my proximity 
to the pulpit. So, as my position seemed to cause the 
good people so much trouble, and we were evidently 
not expected there, we left without waiting for service, 
after having sat about half-an-hour. Thus my first 
effort at witnessing a mission-service was infructuous, 
and Satan scored one, I suppose. This, of course, was 
a mere hitch in the working of machinery new to the 



Church of England, which the tact and courtesy of the 
incumbent of St Mary Magdalene's would soon remedy 
by drilling the gentlemen in the cassocks. .In point of 
fact nothing can be more un-Catholic or offensive to 
the poor than thus picking out the well-dressed ; as 
much as to say, ' You do not want saving from sin or 
Satan, only those poor folks/ The very essence of 
Catholic worship, or of a mission-service, surely is that 
rich and poor shall meet without distinction. The 
Roman Catholics realize this. The Anglo-Catholics 
will learn it when they get a little more au fait at their 
new work. 

A second remark which it occurs to me to make is 
that the ' bowing to the altar ' is not yet satisfactory 
at this church. If it be done at all, it should be pro- 
perly done. At present it looks as though the genu- 
flectors were ashamed of themselves. It put me exactly 
in mind of the awkwardness .of my countrymen in 
lifting their hats to the lady at the comptoir in a French 
restaurant. Contrast this awkwardness with the inimit- 
able grace of the thorough-bred Parisian diner, and you 
know the difference between the genuflexion at St Mary 
Magdalene's and St Mary of the Angels. The fact is 
I know from a poor parishioner, who appealed in the 
most honest ignorance for the rationale of the proceed- 
ing, the poor people fancy they are bowing to the 
magnificent brazen eagle which serves as a lectern. 
This I know is literally and -simply true. The question 
was put to a member of my household by a poor woman, 
' Why do they bow to the brass eagle ? } In point of 
fact, until the reservation -of the sacrament is allowed, 
there is nothing else to bow to. The genuflexion of the 
Romanist means something that of the Anglo-Catholic 
can mean nothing as yet, for devoutly as he may believe 
in the Real Presence in the consecrated elements, there 
are simply no .consecrated elements there, and I venture 
to presume the most .advanced Ritualist does not hold a 
special in the chancel more than in the body 
of the church. These, however, as we have said, are 
merest details, about which it would be unwise and 


wicked to quarrel, if the great end is attained of dimin- 
ishing sin, and so diminishing sorrow and suffering. 


Attended the five o'clock service at All Saints', 
Margaret Street. There seemed no doubt -that this 
mission was doing, good in the way of calling out the 
preaching power of the Church of England. The old 
objection (true enough in its degree) of clinging to the 
MS. sermon will probably not attach to us much longer. 
All praise to those who help to make us natural. The 
method will probably be by running violently into the 
opposite extreme for a little while. A sharp bend in a 
contrary direction will straighten the crooked stick. I 
got to All Saints' (' sicut rneus est mos ') half-an-hour 
before service, and found myself in the thick of a 
sermon. It was a sermon, and no mistake. A young 
man, whose name I could not ascertain (but whom I 
afterwards found to be Mr Body), was habited simply in 
a cassock, and occupied a chair in the middle of the 
chancel that is, there was a chair there for him, but 
he ran about, fell on his knees, &c. in fact, was every- 
where but in the chair, and poured forth a torrent of 
fervid words with the voice of a Stentor. He was 
thoroughly in earnest, thoroughly practical, and cer- 
tainly very striking. There was nothing to offend the 
most sensitive ; yet still there was no doubt that his 
sermon came under the popular denomination of ' rant/ 
Widely different was the discourse of the Rev. K. M. 
Benson, f Superior of the Society of St John the 
Evangelist/ which followed the beautiful five o'clock 
service. Scholarly and monastic in style, it formed a 
thorough contrast to our energetic friend of half-an-hour 
previous. The preacher was remarkably fluent. His 
subject, ' The Love of God,' was admirably set forth, 
and his delivery decidedly imposing ; quiet yet earnest, 
and at times warming into eloquence. But, Rev. 
Father .' Superior/ is it true to say that love was un- 
known to earth from the fall of Man until the time 


when, as yon so eloquently said/ apostrophizing 1 the 
matchless group over the altar, f yon blessed mother 
stood by her Son's cross 3 ? Was all else ' lawless 
passion ' ? Even you were forced to name parental love 
as a possible exception. Altogether the impression left 
on me Broad Church as some of my friends term me 
was eminently favourable. All Saints' was, it appears, 
the centre from which this mission radiated. I could 
not help thinking as I listened to the hymn ' Paradise/ 
so exquisitely rendered, and afterwards to the refined 
discourse of the reverend ' superior,' why cannot we 
f agree to differ } ? Why is it that some good people of 
the Evangelical sort sniff Popery in the most innocent 
ceremonial V Why, again, would these scholarly men, 
who have done so much for our worship and Christian 
work, utterly and scornfully repudiate the merely aesthe- 
tic approval which alone such as I could give to their 
ceremonies ? I wonder whether this mission will teach 
the High Churchman toleration for the Broad, and the 
Low sympathy with the High ! What other reunion of 
Christendom can we ever hope to compass ? I had in- 
tended going to an eight o'clock mission service, but 
got lost in the fog ; I mean literally the November 
London fog nothing to do with the mission. 


Mission Service, 8 P.M., at All Saints', Margaret 
Street. I have learnt much from this service. 1st. 
The energetic preacher I heard the day before yesterday 
was the Rev. George Body, vaguely described as ' of 
Wolverhampton.' He deserves his name. There is 
considerable body in his discourses. 2nd. That was 
not a sermon, but the fag-end of a Bible-class at which 
I was present. The mission service consisted only of a 
few prayers, read in the pulpit. Its essence was the 
sermon. The subject chosen by Mr Body was ' Blind 
Bartiraeeus.' It was ably and eloquently treated, but 
with all the excessive action, and (there is no other word 
for it) ' mouthing' noticeable on a previous occasion. 


This sermon, and the study of Isaiah, which succeeded 
it in the Bible-class, left no room for doubting the 
preacher's earnestness. He thoroughly believes what 
he preaches, and is sure that the making others believe 
it will benefit them. He has, and urges, a noble scorn 
of all ' proprieties/ all mere book devotion. But there 
is the making so much more of the Death that was died 
than the Life that was lived in Holy Land, which seems 
to me, and such as me, to give a tone of unreality to 
the teaching. If any one could make that form of 
preaching practical, I believe it would be such men as 
this. The question remains, Is it practical ? Can it be 
made so ? 


I find there was a&i article in the Times this morning 
on Mr Body's preaching. I was glad I had not seen it. 
The Echo reproduced the substance of it in a paragraph 
headed ' The English Hyacinthe.' They compared Mr 
Body to Wesley and Whitfield, but failed to notice the 
' confessional ' element in his teaching, which certainly 
narrows its usefulness. He announced that hs would 
' receive confession from men on Saturday evening next 
from six to eight/ in the sacristy of All Saints'. 


Attended the 5 P.M. service at St Paul's, Wilton Place, 
Knightsbridge, where the Eev. W. J. E. Bennett, of 
Frome, was preaching a course of sermons. It was 
amusing to notice how the former generation of so-called 
' Puseyites/ represented by such men as Messrs Liddell 
and Bennett, was completely distanced by the modern 
Ritualists. They cannot get out of their old habits of 
rigidity and formalism, which these young Titans have 
thrown to the winds. The sermon was exceedingly dry, 
and not preached, but read from a MS. In fact, both 
time and place lifted it out of the category of ' Mission ' 
sermons. It was a Belgravian discourse pur et simple, 
and even made distinct reference to the sins of the 


London f season/ The only symptom of the Mission 
was a collection introduced into the service, and a certain 
jaunty, not to say rollicking, air about the hymn tunes, 
which is always assumed to be a characteristic of a 
Revival. f O Paradise ' was thus sung to a jumpy 
measure in six-eight time, about as alien from the spirit 
of the words as could well be imagined. 

Eight P.M. ' On revient toujours, 3 &c. To All Saints', 
Margaret Street, again. I found at least fifty people 
waiting outside the gate at seven o'clock for a service 
which was to commence at eight. Mr Body preached 
on the Magdalene at the house of Simon, though he was 
so nearly voiceless as to be obliged to forego his Bible- 
class. His subject naturally led him to speak much of the 
' social evil/ par excellence, and he was just enough to 
address his sharpest remarks to tHe men's side of the 
congregation. He told a somewhat sensational story of 
a poor creature from the streets who the evening before 
had been attracted to St Alban's simply by seeing the 
large cross at the head of the Mission bill outside, and 
went in to ascertain its meaning. The ' priest' saw her 
and spoke to her; the result being that she left her 
course of life, and '.that night, instead of sleeping 
in a haunt of sin, slept in a house of penitence/ He 
truly said, if no other result than this came of the Mis- 
sion supposing this to be permanent that Mission 
had not been in vain. After the sermon the men were 
again invited to stop to confession. 'Do stop now. 
Won't you stop ? ' But alas ! they didn't stop. It was 
rather too much for our English reserve just yet to ex- 
pect one or two individuals to come out in the face of 
that congregation, and undergo tlj.e unaccustomed ordeal 
of confession. I do not think the preacher expected it; 
for he was so very urgent in his invitation. He said he 
had no difficulty with the women, but he wanted the 
stronger sex. I fear it will require a great deal of Mis- 
sion work before any of the stronger sex, really deserv- 
ing the name, will be up to confession point. 



Attended the Mission service at St Alban's, Holborn, 
where for the first time I found the form of service 
followed out as it stands in the little penny books wit,h 
the big crosses outside. It was very doleful. The 
Penitential Psalms were chanted slowly to the most un- 
mitigated Gregorians, and the prayers monotoned very 
low down in the gamut. One cannot help wondering 
whether a little cheerful music written in round notes on 
five lines would not suit these simple folk as well as the 
dreadful square-headed notes on four lines. Why must 
we go back to imperfect musical notation when we want 
to sing about religion ? The hymns, however, were 
more lively, and ' There is a fountain/ followed by its 
refrain of ' I do believe, I will believe/ &c., put one in 
mind of the meeting-house. In fact, the whole affair is 
a wonderful congeries of the Roman and Ranter elements 
grafted on the stock of e the Church of England as by 
law established/ By all means let us be eclectic. We 
cannot afford to neglect any means for - evangelizing the 
.masses/ as the phrase goes. The sermon of the Rev. 
* Father ' O'Neil was on the Sacrament of Penance ! 
Think of that and weep, ye orthodox, who teach your 
little children to answer the question, ' How many 
Sacraments ? ' ' Two only/ The ' Rev. Father ' 
preached on 'the Sacrament of Penance/ He was a 
a little stiff and unnatural, labouring under a conscious 
effort to popularize an unpopular and unpalatable subject. 
It failed utterly, because it was unnatural ; and the con- 
gregation, not large at the beginning, dribbled away 
perceptibly on the women's sicle. It was surmised that 
the second week of the Mission would prove more at- 
tractive than the first ; but one fails to see much sign 
of it here. There were a dozen or two of outsiders, 
evidently, like myself, come to see what it was all about, 
who had to be plied with little mission-books by an at- 
tentive priest in a long cassock, who walked about all 
service and sermon time for the purpose. I kept look- 


ing back, around, and about me, in real curiosity, bat I 
could not see the faintest trace of enthusiasm, or any- 
thing suggestive of a revival service. In fact, to my 
mind the characteristic of the service was listlessness ; 
of the sermon, effort and effort unsuccessful in attain- 
ing its end. In plain words, the whole affair at St 
Alban's on Monday night hung fire. 

Still, however, the question recurs Is not the flexi- 
bility thus induced upon our previously rigid cultus a 
good symptom ? We may not believe in the preaching 
of penance, in the regimen of confession, or the efficacy 
of ' celebrations' at uncomfortable hours of the morning. 
To us it may seem that the honest but fervent inculca- 
tion of moral and religious duties, with hearty free 
services English without a tinge of Eomanism would 
be means at once more simple and efficacious. But still 
those means exist as yet only in theory. The ' Church 
of Progress ' is but in embryo, and at present scarcely 
adapted to individual needs. These people, on the con- 
trary, have put their theory into practice. They have 
begun to work whilst we are talking. Honour to whom 
honour is due. The work is worth noticing curiously, 
if only to see whether its tendency be, as its friends 
think, to diminish sin, or as its adversaries allege to 
play into the hands of the Pope. The question will 
obtrude itself If you use thus all the machinery of 
Koine, why do you not go to head- quarters for it ? Why 
not embrace a system of which all these are the normal 
developments, instead of trying to force them on the 
Church of England, where they are so evidently foreign, 
and so likely to break up the institution upon which it 
is sought to graft them ? They will never suit the 
' Establishment/ Will not the choice lie ultimately be- 
tween a Free Church that is, according to ' Catholic 3 
ideas, a schismatical Church and that One Church from 
which those who use almost all its dogmas and discipline' 
seem to stand so unnecessarily apart towards which 
plain folks like myself seem to see these well-meaning 
people so unconsciously (if unconsciously) drifting ? 

So, then, the much-talked-of Twelve Days' Mission 


was at an end, and became matter of history. As it does 
so, we cannot but pause for a moment, and, with the 
experiences fresh upon us, inquire will it prove to have 
been only a violent spasm, or a real epoch in Church 
history ? Happy on the suave man magno principle 
those whose lot it is to stand, like myself, on the 
bank, watching the current of events, without danger 
of being carried away by it. Seeing at the end of the 
Mission-book a form of service for the ' Renewal of 
Baptismal Vows/ I sallied forth on Wednesday evening, 
prepared to renew mine; though I had never formally 
renounced them, and fancied they were renewed once 
for all at confirmation. I must look up my theology. 
However, the difficulty did not occur, for the service was 
ignored. My last Mission evening was spent shall I 
own the soft impeachment ? still at the shrine of Mr 
Body at All Saints', Margaret Street. Perhaps no 
stronger proof of the fascination exercised by mere 
fluency of speech and earnestness of purpose could be 
adduced than this man's power to bring me thither 
evening after evening at the sacrifice of so much valuable 
time, and amid influences not altogether congenial. If 
I, who could sit there coldly criticizing even his most 
telling ' bits/ felt this fascination, what of the sensitive 
females, and men more impressionable than myself, 
whom I saw there with the tears they tried to conceal 
actually bursting through the hands with which they 
covered their faces ! I certainly never saw such a sight 
outside or inside the walls of a church as I have seen at 
All Saints'. One hour and a quarter before sermon- 
time there was a crowd in Margaret Street. At ten 
minutes past seven, when the outer gates were opened, 
the rush resembled a Jenny Lind night in olden 
time at the Opera. The church was filled in a few 
minutes ; for many persons members of the regular 
congregations we will presume were admitted through 
the clergy-house. Then ensued a time of conversation ; 
not light flippant, talk I witnessed no one single 
instance of that but, both before the service and also 
between the sermon and Bible-class, there was deep, 


earnest conversation of men on religious topics. The 
sermon, to my thinking, was Mr Body's chef d'oeuvre. 
Its subject was Perseverance ; its text the suggestive 
one, ' Let us run with 'patience the race that is set 
before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of 
our faith/ It was a discourse not to be forgotten ; 
more quietly delivered, and truer to its logical divisions, 
than any that had preceded it. Its subject was charac- 
teristically summarized by the preacher as ' Christian 
Pluck.' The Bible-study that succeeded was an eloquent 
picture of, the condition of the Departed in Paradise, 
and an appeal by that softest of all sanctions to per- 
severance. When the mother was pointed to the arms 
of her dead baby-boy beckoning her forward, or the 
young man urged by the love of a lost mother, one can 
well understand the sensation (I wrote that word un- 
advisedly, and not with its new meaning) produced. 
Looking round analytically, I could not but confess I 
had seen as much feeling evoked by a powerful drama. 
I have seen gray-headed men weeping at Mrs Mellon' s 
impersonation of the mother at the foot of the guillotine 
where her son is to be executed, in Mr Watts Phillips' 
' Dead Heart.' Will this prove more lasting ? I 
believe each does good ; but one, we know, is ephemeral. 
I am only echoing the preacher's own anxious and 
often-expressed doubt. Will this ' sensation ' prove 
more permanent ? 

The experiment of this Mission has been cleverly 
elaborated and successfully worked out as far as imme- 
diate result goes. I saw strict Roman Catholics and 
ultra-Evangelicals, in whose nostrils All Saints' has 
been hitherto unsavoury, gathered in last night's con- 
gregation. Will the cohesive power last ? 

Whatever else be the upshot of all this, it proved we 
had at least one Boanerges amongst us, the Rev. Mr 
Body, ' of Wolverhampton.' I felt a little like Iscariot, 
I must confess, when, passing out by the side door, I 
found Mr Body, arrayed in priest's cloak, standing there 
to shake hands with members of the congregation as 
they passed. I thought I might get by unobserved ; 


but no, lie insisted on a shake, and said, in a cheery tone, 
' Grood-bye; your face is very familiar to me at this 
Mission, though I don't know your name. Are you 
working in London ? ' I did not tell him my name ; I 
only told him half my work; and omitted to mention 
that I was doing the Mission for a Daily Paper. I 
wonder whether, had you known my mission, you would 
have felt as I did, that I was grasping the hand of an 
honest man, at all events. 


TIIO those who attentively study worship as the ex- 
JL pression of religious thought, it will be even more 
interesting to trace the realization of those ideas under 
ordinary than under exceptional aspects; just as the 
physician, instead of devoting himself entirely or 
principally to the pathology of the morbid subject, 
studies hygiene and the ordinary working of the healthy 
system. So it is that, having- recently chronicled in 
these pa.ges my experiences of the Twelve Days' Mission, 
I append on account of two Christmas-day ' Masses ' at 
which I was privileged to ' assist.' The former subject 
represented even Ritualistic religious life at fever heat ; 
the latter presents us with the normal and equable 
course of religious worship in a body which, whether 
we choose to realize the fact or not, is a large and con- 
tinually-increasing element in the Church of England. 
Such undesigned evidence is more convincing than that 
which is somewhat obtrusively volunteered at Revival 
Services, or elicited in a one-sided, and therefore un- 
satisfactory manner in religious prosecutions. It is 
worth while to see what these people have to say for 
themselves in those expressions of their religious 


thought which, whatever else we may think of them,: 
we cannot doubt to be perfectly genuine and con- 

On Christmas- eve, then, at an hour when most 
reasonable people were thinking of retiring to bed, I 
turned my face eastwards for the purpose of attending 
midnight c Mass ' at St Alban's, Holborn. I was told 
that service began at eleven o'clock, so made a point of 
being in church a quarter before. Although I found on 
arriving there that Mass did not begin until half-past 
eleven, there was a considerable congregation of both 
sexes assembled even then; and my punctuality enabled 
me to witness one or two interesting matters. For 
instance, I saw all the floral arrangements and draping 
of the altar, which occupied a full half hour, and were 
perfect of their kind; only I fancy the white frontal 
never gives quite an adequate idea of the richness and 
costliness of the material. The white hangings on 
either side of the altar, as well as the draperies for the 
stands containing the Epistle and Gospel, being of whifce 
thick material with deep red edges, were very suggestive 
of blankets. Then again, although the candles at St 
Alban's are now matter of history, and the whole 
sacrarium was one blaze of light, I do not think I could 
have formed an idea of the number of those candles had 
I nob seen the actual lighting up. It took three gentle- 
men in puce cassocks a quarter of an hour by the clock 
to light the candles only, the gas being undertaken by 
another. The post of tallow-chandler to St Alban's 
must be a lucrative one. Then agaiu, from being so 
early, I had an opportunity of seeing the Confessional 
at work. There are three or four in the church, con- 
sisting simply of a screen curtained off" from the con- 
gregation, and suggestive of little privacy. I was also 
amazed at the short time the penitents took to confess. 
It appeared to me, if I had only had to confess the sins 
of one single day, it would have taken me much longer ; 
but then we ordinary people do not understand these 
things yet. On the stroke of 11.80 the procession 
entered with four large banners. It consisted of forty 


persons in all, the majority being 'nice little singing 
boys' 'in surplices white/ some with red cassocks, 
others black. Singing men followed ; then three 
c priests/ including Mr Mackonochie, who were not 
going to take part in the celebration, and were therefore 
vested only in uncomfortably short surplices with what 
looked to my uninitiated eyes like rumpled Oxford hoods 
twisted round their necks ; after these followed the 
celebrant, with epistoler and gospeller in gorgeous 
golden vestments that certainly would have stood up- 
right without any priests inside them. So they passed 
to the sacrarium, which I ought to mention had been 
previously well fumigated with incense by one of the 
men in puce. No incense was used during the celebra- 
tion. The processional hymn was Gregorian and dreary, 
suggesting a cheerful funeral ; but when the processional 
cross and baaners reached the chancel, and priests and 
choir were 'posed'' amid those brilliant lights and 
gorgeous flowers, the scene as a spectacle was per- 
fect. The Communion Service of the Church of England 
was then proceeded with, and little variety introduced, 
except in so far that everything was as ornate as possible, 
and every opportunity of musical adjunct was seized. 
Novello's ' Adeste Fideles 3 was well rendered by the 
choir, and ( Hark, the herald angels sing/ by choir and 
congregation before and after Communion or rather 
one ought to say before and after the place where the 
people usually communicate ; for, strange to say, out of 
that vast congregation not a single person partook of 
the Sacrament at that Christmas-day celebration ! It 
was evidently understood that we were present at a 
Sacrifice, not at a Communion. There, surely, lies the 
revolution of all our old-fashioned ideas on the matter. 
We are not there to do something ourselves, and to get 
help therefrom, to do our duty better and make our lives 
more what they should be ; nous avons change tout cela. 
Something is done for us by the Priest, and ex opere 
operate, we are to be the better for it. Surely there is 
no lack of charity in saying that this theory overlies 
every detail of the 'Mass ' where, out of so many assist- 


ing, not one communicates. Accept this theory, and 
the most elaborate ceremonial is, of course, intelligible. 
To me, who cannot accept it, and to those who think 
with me, perfect as we confess the performance on 
aesthetic principles, it is overlaid with ceremonies that, 
until we develope considerably, must for us be meaning- 
less. The genuflexions, changes of pose, &c., were in- 
tricate to a degree. One dreaded to think of the amount 
of ' drill ' they must involve. Then, again, the Lord's 
Prayer in the Post Communion is sung to a florid air, as 
was the Gospel to a monotonous Gregorian melody. 
Positively, I did not know what was going on until 
they got nearly to the end of it. Fancy the Lord's 
Prayer sung ! Mr Mackonochie himself preached a ten 
minutes' sermon ; but evidently made no point of it, or 
else the text, ' Full of Grace and Truth,' might have 
inspired him with words worth listening to at that par- 
ticular hour, when the greatest event in all the world's 
history was being commemorated. But, I repeat, we 
had not come ' to hear sermons.' We were there to 
attend a gorgeous sacrifice the sacrifice of the Mass. 
And gorgeous it was. I could not, however, but con- 
fess to myself, as the interest culminated with the great 
bell of the church ringing out into the midnight at the 
climax of consecration, that such a ceremony no more 
embodied my own religious life than Traviata does the 
ordinary life of thousands who are thrilled by it at the 

Coming home through the populous streets populous 
at 1 A.M. I could not but think as I met sot after sot, 
male and female, anticipating Christmas in their own 
swinish manner surely it is well to have them rather 
anticipate it as I saw them by hundreds at St Alban's, 
sitting clothed and in their right minds ! The method 
seems to us a bit roundabout and un*-English ; but 
surely the end is good, if it only saved one such man or 
woman from self. Such a contrast makes one very 
' broad ' indeed. 

Twelve hours later I found myself attending mid-day 
Mass at St Mary Magdalene' s, Paddington. I might 


have chosen a c higher ' celebration had not my religious 
dissipation of the previous night told upon my morning 
dreams. At St Mary's Ritualism was in embryo only. 
The vestments were seen there in all their native ugli- 
ness, for they were made of white linen, which, to use 
a milliner's term, does not 'hang' well; and, moreover, 
lacking the accessory of colour, they spoil the tout 
ensemble. The altar was artistically arranged with 
flowers, drapery, and candles, and a modest procession, 
with two banners, commenced the High Celebration. 
The service itself wandered more widely from the Prayer- 
book than at St Alban's, and I counted no less than 
eight interpolations in the shape of Introit, Gradual, 
Offertory, ' Communion/ Nunc Dimittis, Sacramental 
Hymns, &c. The effect of this continual introduction 
of texts of Scripture, often irrelevant, and repeated with 
wearisome iteration, is fidgeting in the .extreme, and 
quite mars the severe beauty of our English Communion 
Service, by assimilating it to the Romish Mass. This 
is, of course, intended. Again, the number of com- 
municants was comparatively small. Speaking roughly, 
I should say that, out of a very large congregation, not 
more than twenty-five men and a little over fifty women 
presented themselves. Of the rest, a large number were 
evidently less impregnated with the sacrificial theory 
than attracted by curiosity and the musical service, 
which is decidedly above par. You could judge this by 
noticing the number who sat during celebration instead 
of kneeling in the unmistakable posture assumed by 
Ritualistic habit-ties. 

However, here is the fact, illustrated almost at anti- 
podes in the two churches I selected. The sacrificial 
theory of the Eucharist that is, the Romish doctrine of 
the Mass is flourishing, in various grades, in the Estab- 
lished Church. Those who have adopted and intro- 
duced it have done so energetically and in evident good 
faith. It is an anxious question for the unbiassed 
moralist to determine whether or not the result will be 
enervating to the moral sense, leading men to rely on 
something external to themselves, a merely mechanical 


transaction on their behalf by a priest, instead of 
trusting to that purity of life and faith which the Church 
of England requires in the worthy communicant, as 
constituting the very means by which he communicates 
in any real or practical sense. This appears the great 
danger of the theory. That it will drive devotees to 
Rome there seems little cause to fear, in fact it ought to 
act as a safety-valve for their enthusiasm. They have 
here at home all they could possibly desire in Rome, 
save the Pope's authority and the vaunted Catholic 
unity ; and surely the (Ecumenical Council has already 
opened their eyes on these subjects. Possibly, therefore, 
the moral effect on individuals is all that need concern us ; 
and with regard to that we may perhaps safely use 
Gamaliel's argument : ' Refrain from these men, and let 
them alone ; for if this counsel or this work be of men 
it will come to nought ; but if it be of God ye cannot 
overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight 
against God/ 


are two well-defined and widely differing types 
JL of young-ladyhood, who gravitate respectively to- 
wards the world arid the Church. The former think 
officers c ducks ; ' the latter speak of the curate as ' dear ' 
Mr So-and-so dear ' Father ' So-and-so, if they are 
sufficiently ' advanced.' The one are great at mess- 
balls, floral fetes, and walking in the Zoo are, for the 
most part, handsome, dashing girls, perfectly alive to the 
fact, and dressing accordingly. The latter are best de- 
scribed by the epithet ' pretty, 3 not always young, and 
invariably reckon frumpishness as a cardinal virtue. The 
military young lady is an honest, open, undisguised flirt. 


The ecclesiastical sister does her flirtation circuitously 
by means of district visiting, Sunday schools, and which 
is to our present purpose church decorations. As 
Eastertide and Christmas come round the mind of the 
ecclesiastical young lady is exercised on the subject 
of ' monograms/ ' legends/ and other curious para- 
phernalia of piety. Her goodness breaks out in ever- ' 
greens and floral emblems ; and on one and all of these 
important subjects her ' guide, philosopher, and friend ' 
is naturally the curate. She journeys with him to Covent 
Garden Market and buys camellias, at ruinous rates, 
sufficient to dine a poor family for every flower; but it 
is nice for the curate, and looks pretty in church, and so 
the young devotee ' goes in/ as she terms it in mild 
ecclesiastical slang, for the camellias, determining to 
' save it in something else.' 

Now it has been my habit for several years to ' do ' 
the Christmas decorations of the metropolitan churches, 
and chronicle the same for the delectation of a too un- 
aasthetic British public. I have described, that is, the 
ecclesiastical transformation scene as it burst upon my 
astonished gaze on Christmas morning. This year I had 
determined to portray what may be I hope not irre- 
verently termed the dress rehearsal, or putting up the 
decorations on Christmas Eve ; but, in the course of my 
peregrinations, I saw the ladies, old and young, at work. 
I went if I may preserve my histrionic metaphor be- 
hind the scenes ; and what I saw is so characteristic of 
a peculiar but growing type of English life, that I will 
even substitute a full, true, and particular account 
thereof for what I had previously determined to write. 
Let not my. fair devotees be alarmed, or the frequent 
blush mantle the cheek of the reverend Lothario. Not 
by the faintest clue will I give an index to the locality of 
my several descriptions; though, at the same time, I 
guarantee that every portrait shall be faithfully drawn 
from a living model. 

Here is, first of all, a church we will call St George 
and the Dragon, Camden Town, principally for the rea- 
son that it lies as nearly as possible in another ecclesi- 



astical hemisphere. St George's is High" and Dry, the' 
incumbent being considered 'Broad' in doctrine, not 
dimensions by the young ladies, and the curate grow- 
ing the beard of a muscular Christian. St George's goes 
in for decorations all over the sacred edifice ; and the 
unenlightened lay people will perhaps be surprised to 
hear that their profusion is rather a sign of unorthodoxy 
than the reverse. As the doctrinal thermometer rises 
the decorations gradually retire into the chancel, or the 
' sanctuary ' as it is termed a slender wreath of green 
stuff up the gas standards being deemed sufficient for 
the laity, while the curate in the stalls sits quite uncom- 
fortably upon holly, and the preacher in the pulpit looks 
like a jack-in-the-green on May Day. Nothing of the 
kind at St George and the Dragon's. From the east 
window right down to the western porch every square 
inch is bedizened. JFor weeks before, fair fingers have 
been cutting out the most uncomfortable-looking hiero- 
glyphs, orthodox in proportion to their illegibility, and 
the ' mess/ which has hitherto driven housemaids to dis- 
traction, culminates in the school-room, where the dear 
creatures stint themselves of their natural refreshment, 
and stain their fingers with twisting wreaths, happy if 
they can only get a soft- voiced clerical gentleman to 
'.. hold the other end' for them. They picnic off soup 
brewed in the soup-kitchen hard by, and brought in hot 
and hot by the curate, and afterwards regale themselves, 
seated on heaps of green stuff, with impromptu tea, going' 
home dead tired at night, only to commence their weary 
round the next morning. St George's goes in greatly 
for cotton-wool letters and powdered alum on the ivy 
leaves, meant to look like frost and snow, but making 
the church rather resemble a large Twelfth cake. Here 
is one young lady who has made her pretty hands 
rough as a washerwoman's by dabbling in the alum 
water; and the worst. of it all is, her ivy leaves look 
rather as if they had grown on a house that had been 
recently whitewashed, and the bearded curate might 
have been wrapped up in cotton- wool for the rheumatism, 


lie is so fluffy all down his long black coat from the 
letters he has been superintending. 

St Margaret the Martyr is an advanced Ritualistic 
church, where the ' Sisters ' wear ' habits/ consisting of 
skimpy petticoats, poke bonnets, and surreptitious beads. 
They only decorate the chancel at St Margaret's ; and 
the architect has been so lavish of adornments in the way; 
of painting and sculpture at the beautiful east end, that 
he has left little space for further ornamentation. You 
would fancy from the semi- conventual condition of St 
Margaret's, and the demure looks of the Sisters as they 
draggle their linsey-woolsey skirts through the street 
mud, that decorating would with them be a very dismal 
process indeed. Not a bit of it. At untimely hours on 
Christmas Eve the fair sisters bear their green and fra- 
grant burdens from their own ( Home ' to the monastic 
shades of the ( Clergy House/ where, after compline, a 
very toothy little supper, by no means of the parched- 
pea order, is served up in refectory, and much is the 
mirth that goes on between the cassocked ' Fathers ' and 
the Sisters. Right through the small hours do they 
work with a will, putting holly berries in all sorts of im- 
possible places, and even climbing to the top of a tall 
ladder to blazon the chancel arch with the sweet old 
Christmas legend. The Fathers delicate creatures ! 
drop off one by one to bed in their cells, as they have to 
be up at three for the ' first office ; ' Sister Seraphine 
presides at the teaboard for early breakfast, and all as- 
semble at matins as though nothing had happened ; the 
church ablaze with decorations, and the souls of the 
faithful refreshed with the nocturnal work of these clois- 
tered Fathers and Sisters. Rumour does say that when 
Father Arthur turned into his cell he found an apple-pie 
bed made for him, and the sleeves of his monastic night- 
gown sewed up, and that sly little Sister Alice looked 
very red when he talked about it in refectory next morn- ' 
ing; but rumour always did draw the long bow, and 
Father Arthur is, I believe, far too sweet a preacher, 
and has much too nice eyes, for Sister Alice to play such 
a cruel trick upon him. 


St Simon Stylites is an Evangelical church, which the 
profane and the Puseyite vilify by calling a preaching- 
shop. By some occult law of ecclesiastical nature, Evan- 
gelical curates nearly always have red shoulder-of-mutton 
whiskers ; and the Perpetual Curate of St Simon's is 'no 
exception to the rule. He is single, adored by the 
ladies old and young, and a distant relation of a colonial 
bishop. There is no schoolroom at St Simon's. The 
Perpetual Curate does not believe in the schoolmaster, 
and deems all worldly knowledge ' carnal ; ' so they have 
to ( decorate ' in the church itself. The raw material is 
brought up to the very porch in a greengrocer's cart, 
and woven into wreaths and interlaced triangles on the 
actual spot where it is to be used. Many of the decorators 
of St Simon's are veterans in the cause grim females 
of a weird and determined aspect, who would scare any 
one except a very Evangelical parson indeed. But our 
Perpetual Curate is equal to the occasion, and makes 
them work like converted niggers, on the weakest tea, 
and without, I believe, entertaining the most distant 
matrimonial ideas as to any one of their number. There 
is a certain. Maria Jane a combination of names not 
uncommon among elderly spinsters who has been at- 
tached to St Simon's from early girlhood, when she was 
employed, as a gaunt hoyden of six feet, all arms and 
legs, to do the twiddly wreaths on the top of the gas- 
burners. She is now a grizzled spinster, promoted to 
the glorification of the pulpit, and sits on the top step 
all Christmas Eve labouring her poor old scraggy bird's 
claws of fingers off, while the Perpetual Curate rekindles 
long dormant flames of jealousy in her bosom by flirting 
with pretty Miss Jones at the suggestive alfcar rail 

The Episcopal Chapel of SS. Boanerges, or the Sons 
of Thunder, is Broad and ugly, and its staff of clergy are 
'"muscular Christians of the most pronounced type, beard- 
ed, and prone to pipes and the ' Fortnightly.' Up to the 
present year the Sons of Thunder have deemed their 
unbeauteous edifice 'when unadorned adorned the most; ' 
but an aesthetic element has found its way even in among. 


the clingy high-backed pews and three-decker which 
stand like ecclesiastical anachronisms at SS. Boanerges. 
Fair fingers of matrons and maidens have this year 
worked into a simple scroll, above the communion table, 
the old happy Christmas legend of ' Peace on earth, 
goodwill to men/ which the voices of little children will 
sing so appropriately on Christmas morn in the gloomy 
old chapel. It is well, surely, that some little softening 
influence should find its way even into our churches and 
chapels on that one day at least in the year, lest our 
theology grow as cold and hard as the every- day life out- 
side the church porch. The time has gone by for railing 
at every little adornment which goes to make the church 
the poor man's home, sniffing incipient Popery in every 
new gaslight, or Ritualism in each simple decoration. 
Even the judicious Hooker protested against God being 
' served slovenly/ We may smile at our enthusiastic 
ladies, young and old, at Christmas, but they are uncon 
sciously exercising a softening inti ueuce upon society ; 
overdoing it a little perhaps sometimes as who does 
not ? but still labouring appropriately and more in their 
place than on the platform or in the senate. 

A word in conclusion to the curates. They looked 
at me as fiercely as curates can look when I invaded the 
sacred territory of schoolroom, refectory, and church to 
see the ladies ' doing decorations/ Each and all glared, 
as much as to say, ' What can that fellow want here ? ' 
They thought, perhaps, I was an archdeacon in disguise 
come down to check their pretty devices. They see now 
what I wanted, and will, i hope, in future years, take 
care to keep me posted up as to the last new things in 
Christmas decorations. 



CHRISTMAS EVE may be appropriately described in 

\J modern ecclesiastical language as ' The Great Day. 

of the Preparation/ It is the time when those branches 

especially of the National Church which build upon 

objective teaching set themselves in order to welcome 

the dawn of the Incarnation, of the greatest event but 

one which is connected with the history of humanity. 

From this fact as a centre have radiated all those social 

influences which make Christmas essentially the Family 

Festival of the year, and which have to a large extent 

merged its religious in its merely festal character. For 

weeks before Christmas the ladies, old and young, who 

are attached to the different churches, have been 

metaphorically, at least working their fingers off at 

monograms, texts, and legends for the decoration of the 

sacred edifices ; and Christmas Eve is the time for 

putting them up. A peep into the different London 

churches on that evening and I peeped into a good 

many was a sight not easily to be forgotten. Here was 

a lady standing on a ladder, decorating the chancel arch ; 

here another twisting wreaths round a gas standard, or. 

blazoning a stall-head with immortelles. In all I found 

the clergy and their fair friends full of preparations for 

the morrow. The more advanced Ritualistic churches 

confined their adornments to the chancel, and some few 

eschewed floral decorations altogether ; but in most in 

all but one, in fact I found them up and doing, and 

ready, moreover, to give all information as to the plans 

for the morrow. The single exception was All Saints', 

Margaret Street once the coryphaeus in choral services 

and bedizenments of all kinds. I found the church in 

gloom, with the single exception of one gas-jet at the east 


end, and at the door I was met by an ascetic-looking 
verger, who might have been Gabriel Grub prior to con- 
version. He said the clergy of All Saints' objected to 
publicity, and declined so he phrased it c affording 
any facilities ' to those who would chronicle their doings. 
I am bound in justice to say that All Saints' stood in a 
minority of one in this respect. 

The great event of Christmas Eve is Midnight Mass, 
as it is termed in the more advanced churches or mid- 
night communion, in those of a less pronounced type. 
It may be remembered that the present Roman Catholic 
Archbishop of Westminster has discountenanced mid- 
night masses as tending to irregularities, and some few 
churches of the Establishment have done the same ; but 
in others the custom still exists, and, by way of going 
to the very head-quarters of Ritualism, I selected St 
Alban's, Holborn, as the basis of my operations for that 
evening. Going, according to my custom, to reconnoitre 
in the afternoon, I found a few persons in the church 
engaged in private devotion, and two priests receiving 
confession. I presented myself at one of the confes- 
sionals, and learned the evening^s programme. There 
were to be no floral decorations, the reason given by the 
Father with whom I conversed being the very practical 
one that they ' smelt/ Only the lights in the sanctuary 
would be augmented, no inapt symbol of the great event 
to be commemorated the first shining of the Light of 
the World ! 

At half-past eleven o' clock the sonorous bell of St 
Alban's rang out above the more than secular sounds of 
Brooke Street, Gray's Inn Lane, and a large congrega- 
tion filled the spacious church for the First or Midnight 
Celebration. The chancel only was decorated, with the 
single exception of the font, which had a few flowers on 
it. The east end, however, blazed with lights, and was 
rich with white silk hangings. Choice flowers were on 
the altar, and about a hundred tapers surrounded the 
central crucifix, while some fifty in each of two large 
candelabra flanked the Sacred Table at the north and 
south. Banners of rich device were also placed at fre- 


quent intervals, and a large picture of the Yirgin and 
Child on the south chancel wall had pots of flowers in 
front. There was no procession, strictly so called ; but 
a small choir entered from the vestry, consisting of ten 
or twelve boys and men, the preacher, a cross-bearer, 
the celebrant, epistoler and gospeller, with acolytes. 
The vestments of the officiating priests were rich in the 
extreme, while that of the preacher was quite plain. 
An Introit was sung from the 2nd Psalm, and the 
Commandments recited in monotone, a bright Kyrie 
succeeding each. The Collect for the Festival and the 
Gospel were given in full inflection that is, they were 
sung instead of being read, the congregation prostrat- 
ing themselves at every clause therein, as also in the 
Nicene Creed, where the mystery of the Incarnation 
was enunciated. The sermon was preached by a Father 
who was habited in simple surplice, hood, and stole, 
and took his text from St John i. 11, 12: ( He came 
unto His own, and His own received Him not/ Com- 
mencing with a graphic sketch of the details of the 
Nativity, he dwelt on the quietness and poverty which 
marked the advent of the Messiah ; and yet the same 
characteristics are often reproduced now ; the same 
carelessness is in the world, and Christ, as it were, 
thrust into a corner. He reveals Himself even now to 
a narrower circle than of old. He comes to His Church 
the world rejects Him. Even in the hearts of many 
of the elect the witness is true, ' He comes to His own, 
and His own receive Him not/ In the retired cell of a 
collected heart, free from earthly distractions, God now 
finds a home. When the heart becomes an oratory, 
then Christ dwells in it. This is the great lesson to 
learn, that Jesus dwells in the heart of the lowly. A 
chain of miracles is expressly adapted to the special 
needs of each Judeean shepherds and Chaldean astro- 
nomers. So now does He manifest Himself in ways 
exactly adapted to the character of all. The desire to 
know Him secures the knowledge. 

The sermon, which was extempore, was brief and 
telling in its character, and was followed by the hymn 


< Adeste Fideles,' sung as solo, duet, trio, and quartette 
for the principal voices ; each, verse being followed by a 
full chorus, in which all of the vast congregation appeared 
to join. The Communion Office was then proceeded 
with. The consecration of the elements was performed 
in so low a tone as to be almost silent, and the great 
bell of the church rang out long and loud to tell outsiders 
that the climax of the sacramental worship had come. 
The congregation prostrated themselves reverently ; and 
the long silence which ensued was perhaps the most 
telling effect of the whole ceremony. At length the 
organ played a few soft notes, and a sacramental hymn 
was sung by a single soprano voice, followed by chorus. 
The Communion strictly so called followed, a small 
fraction only of the large congregation receiving the 
elements, and each being interrogated by a layman, 
standing' at the chancel rail, before being permitted to 
present himself or herself. There could have been 
scarcely twenty communicants out of so large a congre- 
gation. It was a midnight mass or celebration rather 
than a Communion. 

But, however it might differ from the theory or practice 
of the majority in the National Church, there could be 
no doubt but that it was as a spectacle impressive one 
had almost said perfect; and certainly a more satisfactory 
way of welcoming Christmas morn than that which met 
one's eyes and ears on emerging into Brooke Street and 
Holborn, where the roysterers were, at the small hour of 
the morning, already anticipating Christmas mirth alas, 
the term ! in their own unholy way. There were many 
poor in the congregation. Had there been only one 
rescued from the squalor and vice surrounding the House 
of Grod it would have been a result worth all the effort 
of the Midnight Mass. 



is a noticeable tendency at the present day to 
J- revert to the old method of parable- teaching for the 
conveyance of moral and religious truths of catching, 
that is, at any circumstance or event of common life 
likely to arrest men's attention, and making it pave the 
way to something beyond itself. This used to be called, 
disparagingly, ' improving the occasion/ and was rather 
looked down upon than otherwise in the Established 
Church. But a happy change has supervened in this 
respect, more due, perhaps, to influences outside than 
within the pale of the Church. Just as Rowland Hill 
grudged giving all the good tunes to secular composi- 
tions (he used a stronger and coarser expression, by the 
way), so has it been seen unwise to abandon as the mark 
of a party that method of instruction which had the 
direct sanction of the highest authority of all. He 
preached amid the hills of Gfalilee, with birds and flowers 
for His text. The seedsman scattering his grain on the 
fields, by the lake-side gave a turn to the discourse ; and 
so, too, it is no longer thought undignified to let passing 
events inspire the address from the pulpit, or even afford 
occasion for special services. One need do no more 
than instance the frequency of Harvest Festivals in sup- 
porfc of such assertion. So, too, with reference to New 
Year's Day, and its Vigil, here called Watch-Night a 
name, again, which a few years ago would have seemed. 
to restrict our remarks to Nonconformity, but is far from 
doing so now. In the Church of England nothing was 
more common than to be reminded from the pulpit that 
the commencement of the civil year was unimportant in 
the Church's regards ; that the first of January was her 
Feast of the Circumcision ; and that Advent Sunday was 


the Church's New Year's Day, when we turned back in 
our Prayer-books to the old Epistles and Gospels, and 
in our Bibles to the old Lessons once more. Bat, as we 
well know, the New Year has a deep and solemn signi- 
ficance for us all. The mere reading or writing this new 
date is full of meaning. The most thoughtless become 
for the moment thoughtful when he hears the ' wild bells 
ring out in the wild sky ring out the old, ring in the 
new ! ' Strange, perhaps, that the mere passage from 
December 31sfc to January 1st should have this signifi- 
cance a significance which, 120 years ago, did not 
exist ; but it has such significance, and the Church of 
England lately, in common with other religious bodies, 
has recognized the fact, and celebrated Watch-Night, or 
the Vigil of New Year's Day, with solemn services and 
suitable addresses, a few of the more noteworthy of which 
are subjoined. A distinguished Nonconformist minister, 
in dwelling upon the infiuence which these epochs and 
their observance have upon men's minds, assured me 
that many members of his congregation would choose 
Watch-Night for renewing vows, say, of abstinence from 
intoxicating drink during the year. The ceremonies 
connected with its observance are of a simple, but inter- 
esting, kind. Few sermons, comparatively, are preached 
in the chapels, but homely addresses take their turn 
with earnest prayer. These go on until about five 
minutes to midnight, when silent prayer is engaged in. 
The clock strikes midnight, and, after a brief pause, 
viva-voce prayer is again resumed. Customs vary with 
varying churches and denominations. In the Established 
Church there is generally a sermon. The 'high' churches 
have, of course, celebration of the Holy Communion, and 
some content themselves with a solemn Te Deum, after 
evening prayer. Such a method of observance, however 
differing in detail, cannot fail to strike one as an appro- 
priate way of commencing a New Year; and the fact of 
the Yigil occurring this year on a Sunday afforded, of 
course, increased opportunities of solemnity, and secured 
larger congregations at the various churches and chapels. 
Let us visit a few such churches and chapels, taking 


them nullo ordine sed con/use. It is impossible, wlien all 
tlie interest culminates on one particular hour, to be 
very discursive in our observations ; but we can glance 
at a few different places of worship. 

Here is, first of all, a church of the Establishment 
decorated just as it was last Sunday for Christmas. 
It is interesting to notice how the preacher is blending 
the old ecclesiastical ideas of Advent with the newer 
at least newer in that particular locality notion of 
Watch-Night. ' Standing now,' he says, ' as we do, on 
the very frontier-line that separates two years, it is 
thus I counsel you. in the spirit of David's couplet, to 
"remember the past/" to " muse upon" God's works 
in it. Do this with reference to the immediate past 
the year we have pictured as lying like a dead man 
before us, whom we are about to bury in the crowded 
cemetery of Time. Before you do so before you look 
your last upon its outward semblance, do what none 
can do for you, look honestly, in genuine self-examina- 
tion, at its lights and shadows, and pray to God to 
enable you to eschew the evil and to follow the good. 
Do it especially with regard to the life you have lived 
here in church. This is incomparably your highest 
life, the life that will lengthen out into eternity, when 
the little " summer " of earthly life is " over and gone," 
passed away, as one year is passing into another. Go 
back to the Advent of last year; and, comparing it 
with that just past, see if you have truer views of your 
duty here as preparing you for that life of which 
Advent teaches. See if one more year's study of the 
perfect life of Jesus has had its due effect in perfect- 
ing your life. Did your views of Christian duty in the 
year that is gone come out clearer and stronger from 
the light you had gained in the great objective teach- 
ing the Church's yearly object-lesson of our blessed 
Lord's Incarnate Life and History ? ' This sermon 
concluded with a wish that the night's watching might 
be instrumental to the hearers carrying out in the 
future the great command, ' Be vigilant/ It is now 
the hour when church-folk are turning out of church 


and going home some to stay at home, others to 
await the ' late service/ Let us ' look in/ it is all we 
can do, at this little chapel in a back street. It belongs 
to a sect called the ' Particular Baptists/ and about a 
dozen people who have been at evening service are 
sitting there to wait for the Watch- Night devotions 
some hours off yet. The minister's desk is empty ; but 
a homely man standing below it, at what would be the 
parish clerk's desk in a church, is reading verses of a 
hymn, which the congregation sing after him. People 
come and go, almost as in a Roman. Catholic church ; 
and curious passers-by peep in, and wonder what it is 
all about, come out, and go on their way as ignorant as 
before. Here is * Providence Hall/ in another obscure 
locality, the proprietor and minister of which place of 
worship pursues the old traditional trade of the ' car- 
penter/ his shop standing at the very door of his 
chapel. The congregation gathered at seven o'clock, 
and mean to remain until midnight, ' to pray the Old 
Tear out ; ' and a board at the entrance invites all to 
( come and be welcome/ 

Eleven o'clock. A 'High' Church in the suburbs, 
bright and cheerful, preparing for late Evensong, with 
Midnight Mass to follow ; and a vast congregation 
assembling. Not so in town; there is a nest of ' High ' 
Churches around the Portland Road Station,, where the 
congregations are assembled in the street, but the 
churches are diligently shut. They have not yet got 
to recognize ' Watch- Night ;' and the would-be con- 
gregations return home disappointed. Not so at the 
High Church par excellence of London (we are not 
specifying names or localities). There the building at 
half-past eleven is dark and sombre, and a popular 
f Father/ habited only in a cassock, mounts the pulpit 
to preach. But we pass on, for we have determined to 
see the Old Year out elsewhere. This is the little 
chapel of the Moravians in Fetter Lane. Abroad, and 
in the larger settlements of England, Watch-Night is 
a ( night to be much remembered ' among these simple 
folk. The Moravians, as we know, are great at hymns, 


and tMs is the one they select to sing the Old Year 
out and the New Year in. It is sung to a magnificent 
old chorale, which Las been impressed by Mendelssohn 
into one of his best known works : 

' Now let us praise the Lord, 

"With, body, soul, and spirit, 
Who doth such wondrous things 

Beyond our sense and merit. 
Who from our mother's womb, 

And earliest infancy, 
Hath done great things for us 

Praise him eternally ! ' 

Entering the chapel at ten minutes to twelve, I found 
a minister reading a kind of homily to a largish con- 
gregation. He proceeded until the clock in the chapel 
ticked the hour, and immediately, with an almost electric 
effect, the whole congregation fell on their knees and 
sang the above verse. A short prayer followed, and 
then the second verse was sung, the congregation 
having risen to their feet : 

' 0, Gracious God, bestow 

On us, while here remaining, 
An ever- cheerful mind ; 

Thy peace be ever reigning. 
Preserve iis in the faith. 

And Christian holiness 
That, when we go from hence, 

We may behold Thy face.' 

The usual order of proceedings is that a Love Feast 
is celebrated, the ' Memorabilia } of the past year are 
read, and then the congregation engage in singing 
hymns and prayer until close upon midnight. Directly 
this sounds a blast of trumpets, trombones, and other 
brass instruments ushers triumphantly in the new-born 
year. This applies to the Moravian settlements abroad, 
and also to the more important, such as Eulneck, &c., 
in England. London, I was informed, was ' only a 
town-settlement.' After the hymn a brief benediction 
followed ; and the minister, in the name of the pastor, 


dismissed the congregation, wishing them 'A Happy 
New Year/ 

Thus was it that, in one at least of its Protean 
phases of life, the great city passed from one year to 
another. The principal fact which seemed to strike 
one was the presence of life a moving of the dry 
bones on all sides. Another was the gradual removal 
of old landmarks in the shape of narrow and exclusive' 
lines of thought and practice. We have seen this to be 
the case in the adoption of the idea of ' Watch-Night ' 
into the Church of England. Another noteworthy 
instance was mentioned by the Nonconformist minister 
quoted above, who boasted that the Society of Friends, 
who stand aloof from human ordinances of all kinds, 
had permitted him this year, in the very centre of their 
local influence, to preach Baptism and the Lord's 
Supper at one of their chapels. Without being chimeri- 
cal or enthusiastic, or at all taking these things to 
mean more than they do mean, one may be pardoned, 
at least on Watch-Night, for regarding them as, to 
some extent at least, symptoms and evidences of ' A 
good time coming ! ' 


AMONG- the promptings of what may be called, in 
the truest sense of the term, Natural Religion, none 
surely is more instructive than that which leads men 
to observe with peculiar solemnity the entrance upon 
a new year of life. It is, if nothing else, the making 
a step in the dark. It is the entrance upon a new 
epoch in existence, of which the manifold ' changes 
and chances ' prevent our forecasting the issue. True, 
the demarcation line is but an arbitrary one ; yet 


there are few, even of the most thoughtless, who can 
set foot across the line which separates one year from 
another without feeling in some degree the significance 
of the act. The e wild bells ' rung out ' in the wild 
sky ' warn even the midnight reveller of the lapse of 
time ; and the new date which we have to write is in 
itself a silent monitor that we are one stage nearer the 
end of our journey. It would seem, then, that at least 
a brief pause and a passing season of thoughtfulness 
should be to responsible beings a purely spontaneous 
act, and certainly one of those opportunities which no 
form of religion could afford to miss. And yet,, for a 
long time, that which may perhaps, without offence, 
be termed ecclesiasticism, sternly refused to recognize 
this occasion. The line was rigidly drawn between 
the civil New Year and the Church's New Year. We 
were told that Advent was the beginning of our sacred 
year, and that then was the time for those serious 
thoughts and those good resolutions which proverbially 
accompany them. Or if not Advent, Christmas Eve 
was the fitting era for Christians to work with most 
profound self- searching. Even now that one body of 
Christians which represents the most advanced sacer- 
dotalism, the Roman branch of the Church Catholic, 
refuses to endorse this prompting of natural religion. 
Though New Year's Eve is also the vigil of the Cir- 
cumcision, yet that vigil is kept with no special observ- 
ances. The Catholic, as he delights exclusively to call 
himself, is not encouraged publicly, at all events, to 
hallow the entrance on a new year of existence with 
devotional observances. The Anglican branch of the 
National Church, however, which at one time showed 
this Romish exclusiveness, has shaken from itself the 
trammels of imitation, and taken its own independent 
stand upon instincts which it sees must not be ignored. 
A.n old disciple of the now well-nigh obsolete Puseyism 
or Tractarianism would have shuddered at the idea of a 
Watch-Night service, as symptomatic of the conventicle. 
Even now, whilst adopting the idea, the Ritualist pro- 
tests against it as un-Catholic; but wisely adapts him- 


self to circumstances since lie cannot adapt circum- 
stances to himself. With that larger Church of England, 
especially with the Wesleyan branch, which, numerically 
at least, represents the National Church, Watch-Night 
has ever been the especial festival of .the religious year. 
Though no Saints' Days stud the simple calendar of 
that body, though even the solemn seasons of Christ- 
mas, Grood Friday, and Easter are ignored still the 
vigil of the New Year is a Festival of Obligation : and 
the adoption of this idea by the most advanced school 
of Ritualistic thought may possibly turn out a develop- 
ment that shall pave the way towards an end which all 
tacitly or avowedly seek to compass the reunion of a 
now divided Christendom. 

In projecting any survey of religious London on the 
last night of the year, one naturally visited that which 
is regarded as the acme of ecclesiasticism St Alban's, 
Holborn. If any of the London clergy held themselves 
aloof from observances which could possibly be called 
' un-Catholic/ it might fairly be expected to be the band 
of priests ranged under the banner of that uncompro- 
mising champion of Ritualism, ' Father Mac 3 as his 
adherents elect to call the Rev. A. H. Mackonochie. 
But the priests of St Alban's are wise in their genera- 
tion, and know that their Church, above all others, 
situated in one of the poorest neighbourhoods, cannot, 
without extreme unwisdom, let slip so golden an oppor- 
tunity of appealing to the sympathies of the people. 
Consequently, St Albaii's is thrown open for a midnight 
service on the last day of the year. ' No bell is rung/ 
said the Rev. Father Stanton, the chief promoter of 
this and many other methods of getting at the poor of 
Baldwin's Gardens, ' and yet the people come/ Come 
they did, at all events, that night. They did really, at 
the ultra-Ritualistic church of St Alban's, recollect, 
what they only do by a pleasant euphemism to meetings 
by limelight at Charing Cross or Sunday demonstrations 
in Hyde Park the working men, and still more the 
working women and children, came literally ' in crowds/ 
notwithstanding the pouring rain. Nay, more; Father 



Stanton succeeded in what it liad been supposed only 
Roman Catholics and Dissenters could get them to do 
namely, come ' in their working clothes/ And what 
did this zealous young priest do with them when he got 
them there ? Did he receive them with a correct and 
' aesthetic service/ which certainly would have driven 
them all out again, and prevented their ever coming any 
more ? By no means. There was not a symptom of 
Ritualism to be seen. The beautiful chancel was not 
used. The hymns were special ones culled from the 
"VVesleyan manuals. There was no choir. Eather 
Stanton was the sole ' minister/ and he wore no vest- 
ments ; not even the possibly obnoxious surplice. It was 
the most simple, unornate, but, on that very account, 
the most Catholic and appropriate service that could 
have been devised' for the occasion. 

Precisely at half-past eleven, Father Stanton mounted 
the pulpit and requested the congregation to follow him 
in the first hymn, after he had sung it to them, which 
he did in a not very musical solo ; but the chorus was 
very effective. It was as follows": . 

' Shall we meet beyond the river, 
Where the surges cease to roll, 
Where in all the bright for ever 
Sorrow ne'er shall press the soul ? 
Shall we meet ? Shall we meet ? 
Shall we meet ? Shall we meet ? 
Shall we meet beyond the river 
Where the surges cease to roll ? ' 

After the hymn, Mr Stanton read Psalm xxvii. 15, and 
delivered a brief extempore address on the duty of 
recognizing the goodness of Grod while ' in the land of 
the living/ The problem, started by the preacher was, 
How is it, if God be good, that anybody has a chance 
of going to hell? In solving this problem by the 
answer of free will, I make bold to say this Ritualistic 
preacher out-preached any Wesleyan in the great 
metropolis. Matter, manner, and energy were of the 
very essence of the conventicle ; and the congregation, 
which was essentially a poor one, literally hung upon 


his lips as he contrasted God's goodness with man's 
misrepresentations of Him. Lest men should only fear 
God, he turned their attention to the story of the In- 
carnation God at Christmastide, cradled at Bethlehem, 
crucified on Calvary. In a Dissenting chapel I. am very 
much afraid Father Stanton's sermon would have been 
called ' rant/ At St Alban's., Holborn, it was a very 
energetic and effective sermon indeed. ( Do not say 
you must be damned, dear friends/ he concluded ; ' do 
not harbour the black sin of despair. It is a lie. Say, 
" God, Thou art my God." If a fellow only hates his 
sins because he thinks they will pitchfork him into hell, 
that is not repentance. Love God as perfect goodness ; 
then you will see all with a new light. Then you will 
be truly penitent, as frosts melt and flowers spring up 
when the sun shines/ 

A long silent prayer ensued as the church chimes rang 
in the new year, followed by an extempore prayer by 
the minister ; after which the common hymn, ' Guide 
us, Thou great Jehovah,' was sung to the tune of 
' Rousseau's Dream/ At the last verse, ' Come, Lord 
Jesus, take Thy waiting people home,' Mr Stanton 
desired us all to ' sing out loud.; ' and I can answer for 
it that every man, woman, and child followed his in- 
junction. He then continued his address. So did the 
congregation at St Alban's inaugurate the new year of 
grace. ' Go either to church or chapel/ Such was the 
practical advice with which the address concluded. ' I 
know many reasons why you may not like church. But, 
at all events, put yourselves on the side of Grod. Be on 
the side of the good, good God/ 



FOR some time past the attention of passers along 
Oxford Street especially of those all-wise philo- 
sophers who study society de liaut en has from the knife- 
board of an omnibus had been arrested by a placard at 
the corner of Queen Street, near the Marble Arch, an- 
nouncing the site of St Saviour's Church for the Deaf 
and Dumb, the foundation-stone of which was to be 
solemnly laid by his Royal Highness the Prince of 
Wales. No doubt the question of Gui bono ? occurred 
even to other than very determined utilitarians; they 
asked themselves, very probably, what instruction could 
possibly accrue from a public service to those who could 
neither speak for themselves nor hear others speak to 
them. It may be also that this placard caused others 
besides myself to- look for the first time in something 
more than a cursory way into the condition of those 
whom Dr Johnson truly described as suffering from ' the 
most desperate of human calamities ' the deaf-mutes. 
Beyond a general feeling of commiseration, it had not 
perhaps occurred to them to realize in what a complete 
prison-house the deprivation of speech and hearing shuts 
up the unfortunate sufferer ; how utterly it exiles him 
from the society of his fellow-creatures; or, on the 
other hand, how advanced a period of his education is 
implied in the need or mere possibility of a church. It 
has been truly said, that the uneducated deaf and dumb 
are practically atheists; and through what a weary 
course have they to go, from the first conception of the 
noun, or c name of anything/ its expression in gesture 
and on the fingers, up through the intricate mazes of 
that language which our little ones imbibe so easily by 
hearing, and imitate so cleverly with their facile tongues, 


until at last they come to realize tlie idea of God, as 
abstract, perfect goodness ! It has been well observed 
by an experienced teacher of deaf-mutes, that the most 
difficult idea to convey to them is that of simple existence, 
signified by the verb ' to be ' the very title, we may 
recollect, by -which God revealed Himself to the ancient 
Hebrew. Thanks, however, to the loving labours of 
those who have devoted life to this most forlorn portion 
of the human family, not only has this idea been grasped, 
but Ecce signum! through the liberal charity of others_, 
it has been put in the power of these poor brothers and 
sisters of ours to serve God with a f reasonable service/ 
Should any be still inclined to doubt the practical 
utility of such a temple as this, or even be simply in 
search of a new ' sensation/ I would counsel them to 
attend, as I did, a Tuesday Evening Service for the 
c Silent People/ in the Church of St Lawrence, Jewry, 
at eight o'clock. Arriving there early, I was surprised 
to find the fifteen or twenty deaf-mutes who had got 
before me engaged in a general c conversation.' Though 
they were scattered at pretty wide intervals over a large 
church, the ( gossip 3 was general and animated, by 
means of gesture, sign, and even attempted articulation. 
One gentleman was evidently quite facetious, and 
amused the others with a running fire of pleasantries. 
A young mother had her baby with her, the only living 
thing that was able to articulate ; and, I am bound to 
say, it used its power as a British baby should under 
the circumstances. Eventually, some fifty or sixty 
deaf-mutes assembled ; and at eight o'clock the service 
was commenced by the Rev. Samuel Smith, A.K.C., 
chaplain and secretary of the Association. It was a new 
and strange sight the immense digital dexterity, the 
evidently copious vocabulary of ' signs/ and the ex- 
pressive facial changes on the part of the chaplain , and 
in the congregation the almost painful attention with 
which every member of that quiet community followed 
the service. There was none of the listlessness that 
attaches to ordinary preaching and congregations, seeing 
that this speaker had to express every word and letter 


by means of gesture and sign, whilst the hearers were 
forced to keep on the gui vive to follow him. Most of 
the faces were intelligent-looking enough, though there 
was on one or two that dull expression which we can 
well understand to result from congenital deafness. In 
fact, it would seem that, without the education provided 
through the instrumentality of this ' sign-and-finger 
language/ the hopeless sufferers must inevitably drift 
into idiocy. 

Up to this time the labours of the Association in 
Aid of the Deaf and Dumb have been to hold as many 
as twelve services per week in different parts of London ; 
to visit the deaf and dumb at their own homes; to 
assist those of good character in obtaining employment ; 
and even to relieve them, when necessitous, by gifts or 
loans of money. And last, but not least, the object is 
to encourage the early training of deaf and dumb 
children preparatory to their admission into educational 
institutions. The principal Sunday service has hitherto 
been held at the Polytechnic Institution ; but the great 
want of the Association has been a ' local habitation,' as 
well as a name a nucleus for its good works such as 
that now provided, or shortly to be provided, in the 
building of which the Prince of Wales laid the founda- 
tion stone lately. This- is to consist, not only of a 
church capable of accommodating 250 worshippers, but 
also of a large lecture hall 38 feet square, so that secular 
as well as religious instruction may be carried on within 
its walls. 

Thus, then, this church of the Silent People forthwith 
takes its place among the institutions of London. 
Though so much has been done, and a large moiety of 
the estimated cost is already provided, much yet remains 
to do, both to complete the building and also to enable 
the Association to extend its operations. To state that 
fact will be enough to stimulate those who let not their 
left hand know the good their right is doing who need 
no exciting addresses any more than they sound a 
trumpet before their good deeds whose charity, like 


that which, will be celebrated at St Saviour's, is literally 
Silent Service ! 


WE scarcely realize to what an extent children are;, at 
Christmastide, masters of the situation. Setting 
aside educational matters as inappropriate to that holi- 
day season, there is perhaps no single branch of social 
progress in which we have developed so much or so 
satisfactorily as in all that relates to the youngsters. 
Take the department of juvenile literature, for instance. 
When we look at the gaudy gift-books crowding the 
shop windows not only handsome outside but whole- 
some within and then think of our wretched horn-books, 
our doleful legends of Tommy and Harry, and the lion 
and the mouse, with the few really eligible exceptions in 
the way of ' Eobinson Crusoe,' or ' Sandford and Merton/ 
or the ' Arabian Nights/ we seem almost to have real- 
ized one of the fairy tales in the last- mentioned work. 
The bitter pill is indeed cleverly gilded, and we are 
beguiled to learn in spite of ourselves ; that is, we who 
have the good fortune to be boys and 'girls just now. 
So, too, in the matter of these Christmas pantomimes of 
which we always hear so much. Do our little masters 
and misses at all conceive the work that has been doing 
for them throughout three months, during which, no 
doubt, they fancied they at school were the only work- 
ing folks, and those lazy fellows did nothing but take a 
play or pantomime down from the shelf at Christmas 
and put it straight on the stage ? Do they dream of 
what authors and artists and mechanists and ballet- 
masters have been devising and executing for -their 
amusement ? It is literally true that it is for their 


amusement, and that they are our masters. To whom 
else are those elaborate critiques addressed, but to those 
who, even more literally than the gods in the gallery 
themselves, are arbiters of the fate of each Christmas 
piece ? Paterfamilias runs his eye down the newspaper 
page why ? To see which pantomime is likely to please 
the children most. Hear a blase juvenile commending 
or condemning a pantomime calling it ' awful jolly/ or 
' no end stupid ; ' and the fate of that pantomime is 
sealed in the little coterie where that juvenile acts as 
oracle. And this truth of the gradual growth of juvenile 
supremacy extends to Sunday matters too. How many 
of us were carried back to our own childhood when poor 
little David Copperfield narrated his experiences in his 
pew at church ! Who ever thought of making Sunday 
books other than didactic and dreadful then ? Well, 
John Bunyan yes, in his delicious story about Christian ; 
but then the very exceptional character of the ' Pilgrim's 
Progress/ and the fact of its being the only story-book 
tolerated on a Sunday, made us half suspect it was an 
allegory, though we had no idea what that was. We 
looked at it suspiciously, as we did at the spoonful of 
raspberry jam which was too nice not to have an awful 
powder hidden somewhere underneath. With many of 
us, no doubt, the Bishop of Winchester's c Agatha/ and 
other Sunday stories, marks an epoch when religious 
literature became tolerable ; and for how long did that 
volume stand almost as alone and monumental as the 
glorious allegory of Bunyan itself ? c The Distant Hills/ 
and ' The Old Man's Home/ and ' The Shadow of the 
Cross/ were the portal, as it were, by which we passed 
into the happy present. Sunday services for children, 
too whoever thought of those when we were young ? 
How hopelessly over our heads the sermon used to fire ! 
That was why we thought the clergyman such a dreadful 
character, second only to the doctor. He physicked us 
mentally as the doctor did bodily ; and the worst of it 
was, his doses came round with distressing regularity. 
Now, Sunday services for the young, and sermons for 
children, are institutions. The compilers of ( Hymns 


Ancient and Modern 3 have found it necessary to have a 
special section of ' Hymns for the Young/ but probably 
until the present time none ever thought how appropriate 
it would be to pray and praise as children and have ser- 
mons for children, on that day which is so thoroughly 
their own Innocents' Day the day when King Herod, 
to compass the death of that Child whose birthday 
we keep at Christmas, slew the little children at Beth- 

Dean Stanley, who has done so much towards utilizing 
the great Abbey Church at Westminster, originated the 
truly happy idea of calling the London boys and girls 
together in that historic place on Innocents' Day. 
Despite a sloppy, rainy day, the Dean's invitation was 
readily responded to by old as well as young. The 
grown-up people mustered too strongly for it to be 
called a juvenile congregation , but still those for whom 
the service was specially designed were present in 
good force. Anticipating the spirit of those changes 
which are coming on our once rigid and inflexible ritual, 
Deau Stanley introduced special psalms and lessons 
the former being Psalms viii., xv., and cxxvii. ; the 
latter, 1 Samuel iii. and Luke ii. 40 52, all most 
appropriate to the occasion. The anthem was from 
Ecclesiastes xii. 1 13, by Professor Sir Wm. Stern dale 
Bennett, consisting of a duet for treble voices and full 
chorus, f Hem ember now thy Creator in the days of thy 
youth/ &c. The service was intoned by Canon Trout- 
beck, and the lessons read by the Dean. Before the 
sermon, the hymn, ' Jesu, meek and gentle ! ' was sung ; 
after which the Dean ascended 'the pulpit, and preached 
a short but impressive sermon from St Luke ii. 40, 
' The child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with 
wisdom ; and the grace of God was upon Him/ 

By the time the sermon commenced evening had 
begun to fall, and the dim light of the few candles fell 
upon the upturned faces of little ones crowding the 
lectern and altar-steps in a most satisfactorily unortho- 
dox manner; whilst the two large tapers on the altar, 
and the two by the side thereof, were just enough to 


shed a ' dim religious light } round the noble old 

' Innocents' Day/ said the Dean, ' besides being an 
appropriate day on which to call boys and girls to- 
gether, was historically famous in the annals of West- 
minster Abbey ; for it was on that day, eight hundred 
years ago, it was finished by King Edward the Con- 
fessor, himself an innocent, guileless man in many 
respects like a child. It was with special reference to 
them as children that the various portions of Holy 
Scripture had been chosen for the service the 8th 
Psalm, which showed how children might find out God 
in nature ; the 15th, teaching them to be humble, pure, 
and honourable; the 127th, telling parents what gifts 
their children were to them. The anthem put before 
them " the whole duty of man ; " the hymn showed how 
the very youngest might come to Christ. The First 
Lesson presented to them the child Samuel, waiting for 
God's voice ; and the Second gave them the great 
example of Christ as a little child/ In adopting this 
last as his text, Dean Stanley pointed out that Christ 
grew in character, and goodness as well as in stature. 
Christ was taught ' by father meek and mother mild/ 
So must they advance. The world is moving, and we 
must move with it. God is continually calling us to 
higher spheres of duty. ' You and I/ said the preacher, 
f must advance/ There were three noteworthy stages 
of Christ's education, each adding to His childish 
powers. 1. He ' grew and waxed strong in spirit/ 
'Boys,' said the Dean, 'honour the strong limb, the 
sturdy arm, and they do well ; for these are God's gifts. 
They like the body that can endure blows, or win the 
race, or conquer in the game/ All wished for this ; but 
there was something else to be wished for a stout 
heart to resist temptation, to scorn a lie, never to be 
betrayed into wrong-doing. They would be stronger 
and stronger every year not stronger in body perhaps : 
that we cannot say it depends on God but we can 
say in character, mind, and spirit. The stout heart 
comes by trying to get it. 2. Next came wisdom. 


Christ imbibed wisdom from those around Him, and at 
the same time drank in that Heavenly wisdom which 
comes from the fountain and source of wisdom. So, too, 
you who are at school gain wisdom from books from 
looking about you. You need not be old before your 
time j but recollect these golden days never come back. 
There was nothing King Alfred regretted so much as 
the fact that his wandering life had prevented his having 
regular instruction in his youth. Try to gain wisdom 
by being teachable, humble, modest, and often cross- 
questioning yourselves, and God will give it to you. It 
was thus Christ, as a boy of twelve, gained it by 
1 hearing and asking questions.' 3. Lastly, there came 
f grace/ ' The grace of God was upon Him ; ' or, as it 
is said, farther down in the chapter, ' He increased .... 
in favour with God and man/ Christ did what His 
parents told Him. He was kind and courteous, and all 
were glad to. see Him. ' So,' added the preacher, ' do 
you look up to God as your Father, and on your com- 
panions and school-fellows as brothers. Especially do 
you, who are a little older, look on your younger com- 
panions as being put under your protection. Any 
unkindness done to a little companion, or brother or 
sister, is remembered by them years after you have for- 
gotten it ; whilst kindness from a stronger to a weaker 
boy is equally treasured up. Years part you, perhaps ; 
but when you are quite old, some one presses your hand 
kindly, because you befriended him when you were boys 
together at school. When you say your prayers/ the 
Dean concluded, ' remember you are speaking to a kind 
Friend. Grace cannot come to a hard heart ; but on the 
childish heart it falls like rain upon the grass. So the 
grace of childhood grows to the grace of manhood, and 
the grace of manhood to the grace of age, and all to the 
Grace of God. As this beautiful building is made up of 
small stones, each helping to build up the whole, so all 
the world is made up of the graces, not only of full-grown 
men and women, but also of children. Eemember, 
children, this day. If you are tempted to be idle or 
rude, to do wrong, or to leave off saying your prayers, 


think of your Saviour's good example put before you to- 
day in -Westminster Abbey/ 

As the last words of the Benediction fell on their ears, 
and the organ pealed forth the Hallelujah chorus, that 
mighty congregation mighty in numbers though made 
up mostly of tiny atoms passed out through the dim 
aisles and silent cloisters, more than one of the grown- 
up portion, it may be, impressed with the genius loci, as 
well as by the simple words just listened to, and thinking, 
mayhap, what mistakes in after-life might have been 
avoided had such been the fashion, in their golden age, 
of keeping Innocents' Day. 


fTlHERE was fought out, in the theatre at Oxford, 
-L what is destined, perhaps, to be the most important 
conflict in which the Broad Church party has yet 
engaged, on the occasion of Dean Stanley's appoint- 
ment as Select Preacher. Hitherto they have tried 
their strength against the Evangelical and Ritualistic 
bodies in detail ; but, on the occasion of which I write, 
these two formidable opponents were massed against 
them. For some days past angry words had been 
bandied between the contending forces, and the pre- 
parations showed that the contest was to be more than 
a verbal one. From an early hour the station at 
Paddington gave one the idea of a sort of academical 
Derby day. By ten o'clock the platform was crowded 
with unmistakable M.A.s, with here and there a 
dignitary of the Church or higher graduate. The 
Establishment was represented in its every phase of 
thought. Here was a smooth- shaven Ritualist in cassock 
corded round the waist, priest's cloak, and clerical 


wideawake ; here an Evangelical clergyman, in volum- 
inous white necktie ; and here, again, a Broad Church- 
man, who, with a more or less correct clerical attire, 
combined the hirsute appendage of a Barbarossa, and 
other symptoms of the muscular Christian. Lawyers 
had impressed their brief bags into service for carrying 
their cap, gown, and hood; while young M.A.s, whom 
one knew about town, swaggered into smoking car- 
riages, with the audibly announced intention of ' giving 
Stanley a lift/ Friend and foe faced each other in the 
narrow confines of a railway carriage, scarcely daring 
to utter a word either to the other, lest they should 
betray their tactics to the enemy. I can conscientiously 
say that the half-dozen men who filled my compartment 
never spoke to one another beyond the ordinary civility 
of passing the morning papers ; and it was only by the 
titles of their journals I could guess the proclivities of 
my fellow-travellers. So we sped along the swollen 
Thames, and over the long backs of the Berkshire 
Downs, to the fair University city. At Beading we 
took in a large contingent of bucolic parsons, each of 
whom, as he sought to find a place in an already 
crowded train, bustled anxiously up and down as though 
he thought the whole Church Militant was in danger if 
his single vote should fail to be recorded. 

Oxford was fairly startled from the serenity which 
usually marks the fag-end of Michaelmas term by this 
sudden irruption of the outer world. Recognitions 
took place at every street corner ; the hotels were put 
upon their mettle ; the porters' lodges of colleges were 
besieged; and Boffin's Refreshment Rooms ran over 
with hungry curates from the country. As an evidence 
of the interest the question of Dean Stanley's appoint- 
ment excited beyond the walls of the University, I may 
mention that even the guards and porters at the rail- 
way hallooed to each other to know what ( was the state 
of the betting;' but even they did not seem quite to 
have calculated on the matter being so warmly taken 
up in London and by the country at large. At half- 
past one o'clock the bell of St Mary's gave notice to 


the combatants to prepare for the fray, and immediately 
the floor of the theatre was .sprinkled with a few repre- 
sentative men of all the schools. The non-residents 
appeared in gowns of various degrees of rustiness, with 
chiinney-pot hats, and now and then a wideawake. 
These early comers conversed in small groups, hugging 
instinctively those sides of the building on which were 
written respectively ' placet' or ' non-placet/ giving 
thereby an inkling of how they meant to vote. The 
gathering increased every moment, and soon the 
Doctors in their scarlet and black began to dot the 
seats around the Vice- Chancellor's chair. Prince Leo- 
pold^ by right of his royalty, entered the sacred en- 
closure with Dr Acland, and afterwards took his seat 
among the Doctors. Before two o'clock every inch of 
the floor was full, the occupants standing in anticipation 
of the coming encounter. Still they gravitated towards 
their respective voting doors ; and on the ' placet ' side 
one descried the scholarly face of Professor Jowitt, the 
sharply-cut features of the Rev. Mark Pattison, and tlj.e 
well-known physiognomy of Professor Max Miiller; 
while on the opposite side Mr Burgon was marshalling 
his forces, and Dean Goulburn, from the Doctors' 
benches, looked out over the seething mass of M.A.s 
below him. At two o'clock, or a little after, the Vice- 
Chancellor arrived, and forthwith commenced proceed- 
ings in Latin, which must have been exceedingly 
edifying to the ladies, who, in some numbers, occupied 
the Strangers' Gallery, backed by a narrowish fringe 
of undergraduates. The object of the Convocation was 
stated as being the appointment of Select Preachers, 
and the names were then submitted to the doctors and 
masters for approval. f Placetne igitur vobis huic 
nomini assentire?' being the form in which the question 
was proposed. The name first on the list was that of 
the Rev. Harvey Goodwin; and a faint buzz in the 
Assembly was interpreted by the Vice- Chancellor, 
habituated to such sounds, as an expression of approval. 
Thereupon he passed on to name number two, which, 
with some agitation, but with clear, resonant voice, 


nevertheless, he read out as ' Arthur Penrhyn Stanley/ 
Immediately there ensued a scene of the wildest con- 
fusion. On the Placet side cheers and waving of 
trencher caps ; on the Non-placet side feeble hisses ; 
and from all sides, undergraduate as well as graduate, 
mingled shouts of e Placet J and ' Non/ with cheer and 
hiss a discretion; until the ringing voice of Deaij. 
Liddell breathed peace over the troubled waters by 
pronouncing the magic words, f Fiat scrutinium ! ' 
Thereupon the two proctors proceeded first of all to 
take the votes "of the doctors on their benches, and 
when this was done they took their station at the 
doors labelled ' Placet ' and 'Won- placet/ the Vice- 
chancellor directing the voters thus : ' Vos quibus 
placet hoc propositum per fores ad dextram discedatis ; 
vos quibus non placet per fores ad sinistram/ During 
the process of polling, which was brief considering the 
numbers, one had an opportunity of criticizing the 
constituents of that truly exceptional gathering. It 
was certainly not true to say, as some did say, that only 
the younger Masters voted for Dean Stanley. There 
was quite a fair proportion of white and bald heads on 
the ' Placet 3 side. The country contingent was not so 
numerous as one had expected, and I do not believe 
that all of these went out at the left-hand door. Evi- 
dently, however, parties were pretty evenly balanced; 
and when the Non-placets had all recorded their deci- 
sion, there were about twenty-five left on Dean Stanley's 
side, which probably would have nearly represented the 
actual majority, but at the last moment some stragglers, 
who had only arrived in Oxford by the 2.25 train, 
hurried in, and so swelled the numbers. One late- 
comer arrived without his academicals, and some zealous 
supporter of the Dean had to denude himself and pass 
his cap and gown outside to enable this gentleman to 
vote. By and by it was over. The proctors presented 
their lists to the Vice- Chancellor, who, amid breathless 
silence, pronounced the words, ' Major! parti placet ! ' 
Then there was indeed a cheer, which rang through the 
building from basement to upper gallery, and was taken 


up outside in a way that reminded one of the trial of 
the Bishops. The hisses, if there were any, were fairly 
drowned. Oxford had given its approval to Dean 
Stanley. The Prince, who had continued during the 
whole of the proceedings in conversation with Doctor 
Hawkins, the venerable Provost of Oriel, now left the 
theatre, as did the Vice- Chancellors, Doctors, and 
Masters, and in a short time it was as empty as though 
no Battle of the Creeds had been lost and won there. 
The names of the other three Select Preachers were 
quite inaudible, but evidently approved. On leaving 
the theatre I ascertained that the majority in favour of 
Dean Stanley's appointment was 62 ; the numbers 
voting being Placet, 349 ; Non-placet, 287. Over 600 
members, therefore something like a full House of 
Commons recorded their votes on this memorable 

On the up platform, for the 4.10 train, gathered 
once more the high and tne low, returning to their 
cures in town and country, crestfallen, sadder, and, we 
will hope, wiser men than when they set out in the 
morning, bent on stamping out independent thought 
and scholarship, as if alien ingredients in the National 
Church of England in the nineteenth century. I had 
the felicity of announcing the majority to the inquisitive 
guards and porters, whose interest told plainly that 
this question has a relevancy far beyond the walls of 
the University. One and all were c glad to hear Stanley 
was in/ 

As we sped along through the flooded fields and 
amid the shimmering moonlight, one eminently Con- 
servative old gentleman for whom the times, like the 
up-express, were doubtless going a good deal too fast 
expressed to me his decided opinion that non-resident 
members had no right to interfere in these matters. It 
ought to be purely a question for the University. Hav- 
ing delivered himself thus, he calmly fell asleep, in 
blissful unconsciousness of his own illogical position, 
seeing he had journeyed down from the metropolis that 


morning and back again in the evening, on the fruitless 
errand of opposing Dean Stanley. 


fpHAT man essays a difficult task who would write of 
JL London's ugliest vice without calling up a blush to 
the cheek of virtue and innocence who would let 
decent English maids and matrons read the story of 
their ' erring sisters' shame' without pandering to a 
depraved curiosity or a vulgar appetite for horrors. 
Let none who seek such prurient details be at the pains 
to run their eye down these pages; nor, at the same 
time; let those who dread to hear of the special sin of 
great cities veil them from the sight even of the purest 
and most blessedly ignorant in the household. Let each 
be well assured that, while a plain, unvarnished state- 
ment of things heard and seen is given, much must of 
necessity be suppressed. The whole of the. stern, sad 
truth cannot be told, but from what is told, let those 
who read guess what might .be revealed were no such 
wholesome restraint enforced. .Neither, again, is it of 
West-end vice painted, enamelled, almost refined 
that we would n-ow speak. No Lais or Aspasia is the 
model at present. No Formosa lures us to scenes 
of gilded vice. It is vice with the paint off, or so 
clumsily patched as to heighten its deformity, that we 
are to see. Here is the programme : ' Midnight Meeting 
Movement. Admit to St Matthew's Schoolroom, 
Princes Square, St George's Street, E., at eleven o'clock;' 
whilst a written addendum states that ' this meeting is 
among the sailors' girls of Batcliff Highway, a distinct 
class of the fallen.' Fallen, and in Eatcliff Highway ! 



That announcement, coupled with the assurance that 
every unpleasing detail shall be delicately veiled, will 
surely be enough to scare all but genuine good Samar- 
itans from the too true story. 

On leaving the silent city behind to go eastward at 
night, I have a feeling as though I had passed beyond 
the haunts of civilization into some desert. Nor is the 
idea quite hyperbolical ; for that district lying along the 
Thames east of London Bridge is a country in itself, and 
towards midnight it has many of the unattractive aspects 
of a wilderness. Along Thames Street, so busy by day- 
time, you hear the echo of your own footsteps. Pass 
the postern gate of the Tower, and you are in the sailors' 
quartier; on into E/atcliff Highway euphemistically 
termed St George's Street where, amid frequent public- 
houses and dancing -rooms, low vice keeps perpetual 
saturnalia. Leaving for a moment this noisy thorough- 
fare, I find myself in one of those queer, quiet nooks so 
numerous in London, Princes Square, with the little 
Swedish church in the centre, looking picturesque in 
the moonlight. Among other buildings is St Matthew's 
Schoolroom. I enter, and find the clergyman and a 
couple of the society's officials. The company have not 
yet arrived, though ample preparations are being made 
for a large number in the shape of a comfortable tea. 
It is proposed that we should pass the time before the 
hour of assembling in visiting the public-houses of 
Hatcliff Highway ; and, in charge of a gentleman who 
has the entree, I sally forth: If you look narrowly into 
each low gin-shop, you will find that it has a long room 
at the back, with tables running round, the centre being' 
left open for dancing, and the end occupied by a small 
stage. In the first we enter a man is singing a comic 
song to a small audience ; or rather the audience and he 
are singing it together, and the young ladies of the 
company, in a sort of ballet attire, with a tendency to 
scarlet boots, are mingling freely with the audience. A 
word with the smart barmaid as to whether she has 
read the last book he left, and my guide marshals me 
into the dancing-room, the manager of which, attired 


as a clown, is lounging in the doorway. The wonderful 
thing is the excellent footing on which my friend, who 
is a City Missionary, stands with the publicans, diame- 
trically opposed as their callings seem. He shakes 
hands with all the girls, calls them ' lassies/ and 
scatters his invitations broadcast among them. They 
are largely accepted too. There is an utter difference; 
he tells me, between these sailors' girls and the soldiers' 
girls of contiguous quarters. They hold no communica- 
tion with one another. These girls have a distinctive 
attire. They go bareheaded, greatly leaning to orna- 
ments in their hair; they wear low dresses and a shawl 
cast about them to look like an opera cloak. On many 
a breast I saw strange to say a large cross ! As we 
passed one dismal lane leading out of the main thorough- 
fare, my guide asked me to come down. ' This is Gravel 
Lane/ he said ; ' at the bottom is the Dock bridge, 
where so many of these poor girls throw themselves 
over. It has been found necessary in consequence to 
keep a policeman there from seven in the evening all 
night. I call it the " Bridge of Sighs/' ' he added. We 
went clown ; and, sure enough, there was the policeman 
at his gloomy vigil. It was a quiet nook, with the bows 
of two big ships looming over the moonlit water. ' They 
find it very convenient,' said the Missionary, with a 
touch of grim humour, 'to come down here and drop 
into the water/ But it was time to get back to the 
schoolroom. When we did so, we found somewhere 
about eighty girls assembled, sitting on the school forms, 
and taking tea with evident gusto. There was some 
little noise of course where did ever fourscore females 
of any class gather without noise over the cup that 
cheers ? but still all was orderly and decorous, so far. 
From the brazen-face harridan who had been ' out ' for 
long years (such is the technical term), to the girl of 
fifteen, whose ' outing } numbered only weeks there 
they were, human wrecks, body and soul, stranded on 
the cruel shoals of society, and only beginning to be 
recognized as material for the social reformer to work 
upon. Some half-dozen gentlemen connected with the 


Midnight Meeting Society, and two or three Bible- 
women, were waiting on these strange guests ; and the 
clergyman, a youngish man, with quite white hair and a 
silvery voice, was going np and down the ranks, making 
cheery remarks, and ministering to appetites that were 
by no means delicate. I ingratiated myself by taking 
round that highly popular condiment, the plumcake ; 
and whilst I did so, not one indecent or even discourteous 
word was spoken, no indelicate act or look met my eye 
amongst those fourscore of the very offscouring of 
Ratcliff Highway. ' It is astonishing what relics of 
humanity one finds here/ said the clergyman. 

With instinctive horror naturally experienced for what 
is new or strange, I felt myself shrinking from these poor 
girls in the dancing- room, whilst my merry Missionary 
shook each one by the hand and greeted her with his 
'Well, lassie ! ' But when brought face to face with 
them, I was utterly ashamed of such a feeling, and 
wondered why people should shake them off roughly or 
give them hard speeches, instead of imitating the good 
Missionary's efforts to say a word that shall save them. 
One of the first girls to whom T spoke had just made the 
f great experiment ' of a leap from the Bridge of Sighs. 
She had been rescued from the water and taken to prison, 
where she was kept for seven days ; and when I saw her 
she had only that morning come out of gaol. She had 
evidently been drinking during the day; and there was 
a fierce light in her eyes, as she kept saying, in answer 
to protests against her attempted suicide, and advice that 
she should try to right herself, c No,no; I am fallen too low 
too low. I shall try London Bridge to-night/ ' Do you 
think she will?' I asked of one of the officials. ' Likely 
enough/ was the business-like reply. In a quarter of 
an hour I came round to her again, and she was roaring 
with laughter and 'taking a sight' at a friend on a 
neighbouring' bench. When tea was over a hymn was 
sung, and considerable giggling was caused by its being 
pitched so high that the key had to be changed. That 
was the great interruption in fact, the only interruption 
of the evening, the irrepressible proneness of the girls 


to giggle ') but I fancy I have observed this proneness 
elsewhere than in the purlieus of Eatcliff Highway. 
For instance, to show how a casual word will lead these 
impetuous people astray the clergyman read a portion 
of Scripture to them, and related the parable of the Ten 
Virgins. The title was received with a regular guffaw. 
His address, which was perhaps a little too scholarly, 
described the marriage ceremonies of the East, and the 
' ornament of grace ' worn by the bride, at which the 
girls giggled again, and quite lost the point of that alle- 
gory. They sang lustily, and many of them had melodi- 
ous voices. A few could sing the hymns without book 

relic of a decent childhood, not yet lost ! One old 
stager, who prided herself on her vocal powers, managed 
to g*et an arm-chair all to herself, and sang really an 
excellent alto with the air of an Alboni. Another gentle- 
man followed the clergyman, and took the invitation 
ticket above quoted as his text, repeating, over and over 
again, the question, t Have you got tickets for Heaven?' 
and receiving pointed, but sotto voce replies. Strangely 
enough, the noisiest and most troublesome section were 
not the sailors' girls, but some work-girls sack-sewers 

who kept to themselves, and did their best to disturb 
proceedings, leaving noisily so soon as they had disposed 
of a very heavy tea, and had a brief ' lark ' during the 
preliminary proceedings. There were several more 
hymns, and a brief address was given by the secretary 
of the society, who urged the girls to leave the bad life 
at once behind. They could, if they chose, go away 
from that room, and be taken in cabs to homes where 
they would be qualified to lead decent lives for the future, 
and eventually, out of a total of eighty-eight, four girls 
did so remain, and a good many others promised to come 
to the office in the morning. One fresh-looking country 
lass wanted to be sent home to attend her mother's 
funeral. Her father, who had been a farmer, was in 
independent circumstances; but the daughter Avas an 
outcast, though only six weeks ' out ' in Eatcliff High- 
way, and as comely and well-spoken a girl as one could 
wish to see. Decidedly the noisiest and most giggling 


of the whole fourscore was, to my surprise, one of the 
four who remained ; but I was informed that those who 
thus remained are often disappointing cases. Either 
they act on impulse, which cools down Before the morn- 
ing ; or they will sometimes go to the Home because it 
is late, and they may be locked out of their lodgings ; 
or even they will go simply for the ' lark ' of having a 
ride in a cab. The ordeal of having to walk up from 
Ratcliff to the office in Red Lion Square in the morning 
is, as one can well understand, a much better test of 
sincerity. Two other interesting ' cases ' may be men- 
tioned, each confirming the good clergyman's remark 
that relics of humanity exist even here. One girl lin- 
gered long and anxiously about the door; and the cause, 
I was told, was that she had a little child, two years old, 
whom she wished to have cared for. Clinging to the 
old, vile life herself, she still sought, like Dives in the 
parable, that the one to whom Nature had bound her 
with such strong ties might not come to that place of 
torment. The second case .was that of a middle-aged 
woman, on whose face, it perhaps sounds hard to say, 
Nature seemed to have graven the stigma of her calling. 
I had noticed her as one of the few who shed tears when 
allusion was made to the fact that some of the girls pro- 
bably had mothers who had cared for them and prayed 
over them, and might even now be watching them from 
the world beyond. ' That woman/ said my guide of the 
evening, ' is a veritable missionary for me. She has been 
"out-" eleven years; and though she wont leave her 
bad Jife, she protects me from being insulted, and gets 
the younger girls to listen to me/ As the girls passed 
out of the room, a card was presented to each with the 
following words : ' Dear Friend If you will call at the 
office of the Midnight Meeting Movement, 5, Red Lion 
Square, Holborn, W. C., any day, from Monday to Fri- 
day, between ten and four, and Saturday, between ten 
and twelve, advice will be given you, and, if possible, 
assistance for the future/ 

Such were some of the presentable particulars of the 
Midnight Meeting. They may serve a good purpose if 


they convince the, most forlorn wanderer on the wild 
London streets that there is still such a word as 'home' 
for her; that she need not say, in Hood's graphic 

' Oh, it was pitiful, 
Near a whole city full, 
Home she had none.' 

Christian charity is not so rare as it was. There are 
among us those large-hearted ones who can pity the 
sinner, whilst they loathe her sin. If one such Sister 
of Mercy in the truest sense of the words can learn 
from what we have now said a new mission and mode of 
doing good, another sphere of serving Him who did not 
disdain to work among the publicans and harlots, this 
brief record of the Midnight Meeting will not have been 
written in vain. 


CjCARCELY could a more incongruous gathering be 
O imagined than that of which I made one in the sum- 
mer of 1873. For myself I went in the cold-blooded 
way of ' business ; ' but, in this respect, I was almost 
alone in my glory if glory indeed it were. We were 
going to bury the Bishop of Winchester, whose death 
had recently startled us out of our serenity, and made us 
ask, whose turn would come next ? 

Steaming along as we did by special train, through 
the balmy July morning towards the breezy Sussex 
downs, it might have been asked us, as of Wordsworth's 
' tender child,' what could we know of death ? Every- 
thing around seemed so exuberant in life that no thought 
of death obtruded itself. We might have been a large 
party, mainly clerical, running down to Brighton for a 


summer day's holiday under episcopal supervision. We 
were, however., Bishop Wilberforce's great funeral party. 
We were going to lay in the earth the mortal remains 
of one who we could not help thinking of it was that 
day week as full of life., fuller of animal spirits, than we 
at that moment. 

The departure of the train from Victoria Station was 
marked by the heterogeneous appearance which alw.ays 
characterizes a gathering of the Engiish clergy for the 
occupants were mainly clerical. Now one saw a bishop, 
now a bronzed clergyman from the country here a well- 
known London incumbent, and there a young curate. 
Some few assumed a square cap and cassock, but most 
were clad only in the ' sober livery * of mourning*. The 
train seemed quite full, and, punctually at the hour ap- 
pointed, sped out of the station with its strange occu- 
pants. There was, as may well be imagined, but one 
topic of discourse on the journey. All spoke solemnly, 
but happily and kindly withal, of him to whom they had 
come to pay the last poor offices of respect that summer 
morning. At Petworth Station it appeared as if every 
vehicle in the neighbourhood had been impressed into 
the service for carrying us over the two miles that inter- 
vened between that place and our destination. The drive 
was a beautiful one ; and, as we defiled from the road 
into the umbrageous glades of Lavington Park, where a 
long- stretch opened across the meadows, our cavalcade 
showed in its true dimensions, and was a veritable funeral 
procession indeed. Anon we reached the house of 
mourning, and, passing the veiled windows, entered 
through the hall into the apartment where the body was 
lying. The coffin was covered with a rich velvet pall, 
on which lay the crosier of the departed bishop, and the 
insignia of his order, but all surmounted by exquisite 
floral wreaths and several crosses of flowers, one of great 
size ; whilst on the top of all was a large black and white 
crucifix, another standard one being also placed near the 
head of the coffin. Silently we passed around the nar- 
row bed where he was sleeping so calmly in the sunshine, 
and out again on to the crisp sward of the lawn, up the 


slopes of which we mounted to the tiny church hard by, 
whose tinkling bell warned us of the approaching cere- 
mony. By noon the little building had been filled,, so 
far as its humble space -could afford accommodation for 
those who did not form the actual funeral party. Hum- 
ble villagers sat side by side with clergy, all bearing on 
their faces signs of the deepest emotion, and looking" 
wistfully at the bier within the rood screen on which the 
bishop's coffin was to rest. The altar was draped with 
violet, and had upon it three candles and two vases of 
white flowers, the pillars of the chancel screen being 
wreathed with lilies. The holy table was vested for com- 
munion, and the elements stood ready on a credence 
hard by. 

Soon, then, we heard the words, ' I am the Resurrec- 
tion and the Life/ resounding from the neighbouring 
lawn, to tell us that the mortal remains of the Bishop 
had set out on their last journey; and the long, white- 
robed procession, having 1 passed round the green sward, 
entered at the portal of the little church. The choir of 
St Mary Magdalene's, with the Rev. Richard Temple 
West, headed the cortege; then came one bearing the 
pastoral staff of the Bishop reversed next the coffin, 
still covered with its floral adornments, and borne by 
eight men in white frocks. Close by came the members 
of the Bishop's family and other mourners, and then the 
long line of clergy and dignitaries, who completely filled 
the body of the church as they passed to their seats, 
when the burial service commenced. The funeral psalm 
was chanted to a Gregorian tune with harmonium accom- 
paniment ; and then was read Paul's wonderful treatise 
on the Resurrection, from 1 Cor. xv. whose marvellous 
analogies had been that morning illustrated for us in the 
golden fields ripening for the harvest, and the summer 
woods only beginning to be dashed with autumnal 

At the conclusion of the lesson, Hymn 191 (Ancient 
and Modern) was sung 

' Ckrist will gather in His own 
To the place where He is gone 3 


Where tlieir heart and treasure lie, 
Where our life is liid on nigh. 

' Day by day the Voice saith " Come, 
Enter thine eternal home ; " 
Asking not if we can spare 
This dear soul its summons there.' 

Then followed the Ante-Communion Service, the 
Collect, Epistle, and Gospel for St James's Day being 

As the Offertory Hymn, the beautiful composition, 
1 Who are these like stars appearing ? 3 was sung, fol- 
lowed by that great gathering 

' Who are these like stars appearing, 

These, before Grod's throne who stand ? 
Each a golden crown is wearing ; 
Who are all this glorious band ? 
Alleluia ! hark they sing, 
Praising loud their heavenly King. 

These, the Almighty contemplating, 

Did as priests before him stand, 
Soul and body always waiting 
Day and night at His command ; 
Xow in God's most holy place 
Blest they stand before His Pace. Amen.' 

not a heart there but thrilled at the appropriateness of 
many of the expressions, as also at the long and express- 
ive pause in the Church Militant Prayer, where God's 
holy name was blessed for all who had departed this life 
in His faith and fear. Then came the celebration of the 
Communion, reminding one of the way in which the 
Primitive Church celebrated the anniversaries of their 
martyrs' departure, not as their death-days, but as their 
birthdays, by offering the Eucharist, or sacrifice of 
thanksgiving and praise. There was no element of sad- 
ness, though every element of solemnity, in the service. 
It was a service worthy to be held over a Christian 
Bishop for whom we dared not ' sorrow even as others 
which have no hope.' 

When the Communion Service was ended, the 130th 


Psalm, or ' De Profundis/ was chanted while the body- 
was being moved to the churchyard. Thither, to a 
most sequestered spot, proceeded that vast assemblage, 
the choristers surrounding the grave, and the rest 
forming a deep circle around. The coffin was now un- 
covered, and was seen to be a handsome oak one, with 
a simple inscription, over which again were laid the 
crosses and wreaths, while fresh garlands were thrown 
in by ladies. As the service progressed, the hymn, 
' Brief life is here our portion/ was sung; and .then 
came the solemn finale as, at the words, ' Ashes to 
ashes, dust to dust/ was heard that dull sound of the 
clods on the coffin-lid, so often taken to be the death- 
blow to hope. Bat in Bishop Wilberforce's case there 
seemed, as I have said, to be none of this hopeless 
element. In that most beautiful and peaceful church- 
yard that bright summer morning, with children sweetly 
singing round his grave, and scented flowers heaped 
upon his coffin, we left our good Bishop sleeping, and 
felt that the close of that life was a fitting sequel of 
what had gone before, the bright eventide of a life that 
had been bright and happy as well as useful throughout 
dashed, indeed, with a few shadows at sundown and 
wetted with the dew of ' some natural tears/ but still 
the appropriate closing in of life's little day, the com- 
mencement, as all present felt, of one brighter still that 
should never know eventide, shadow, or tears ; for the 
former things had passed away, and there would be no 
night there whither he had gone before us. The last 
hymn, with which was concluded this truly happy 
ceremony, was very fitting. It ran thus 

' Shepherd of the sheep, 
High Priest of things to come, 
Who didst in grace Thy servant keep, 
And take him sweetly home ; 

' Chief of Thy faithful band, 
He held himself the least ; 
Though Thy dread keys were, in his hand, 
everlasting Priest. 


' So, trusting in Thy might, 

He won a fair renown ; 

So, waxing valiant in the fight, 

He trod the lion down. 

' Then rendered up to Thee 
The charge Thy love had given, 
And passed away Thy Pace to see 
Revealed in highest heaven/ 

Before the company separated, it was proposed that 
some memorial of the late Bishop should be got up. 
The Bishop of Chichester presided at an extemporized 
meeting on the lawn of Lavington House, when it was 
stated that a monument would be raised on the spot 
where the accident happened, and a committee, including 
all the bishops of Great Britain and Ireland, was ap- 
pointed to meet on the following 1 Thursday, at the 
8. P. G. Rooms, at three o } clock, for the purpose of 
deciding on the memorial. Lord Granville and Mr 
Gladstone were also to be added to this committee,, 
Some reference was made to the division of the diocese, 
and the foundation of a new diocese of South wark as a 
fitting form for such memorial to take. Clapham was 
named as the seat of the diocese, but the proposal was 
not favourably received. 

Among the many affecting incidents connected with 
the Bishop's funeral none is more worthy of mention 
than the presence of an American clergyman from the 
diocese of Connecticut. He landed on Saturday last, 
and the only introduction he brought in England was 
to Bishop Wilberforce. Too late to present his creden- 
tials to the living prelate, he stood among the mourners 
around his grave. There was also in the procession a 
coloured clergyman, named Gordon, of the purest 
African type. Altogether there could have been 
scarcely fewer than two or three hundred clergy pre- 
sent ; and the assemblage was a striking instance of the 
effect that can be produced by the simple ritual of the 
Church of England properly carried out. In fact, the 
beauty of the ceremonial consisted in its simplicity. 
There was every variety of opinion as to the proper 


vestments in which to attend a funeral. The large 
majority of the clergy were in surplice, hood, and stole ; 
some few wore collegiate caps ; one only Dr Monsell, 
of Gruildford a biretta ; many wore wide-awakes more 
or less ecclesiastical, some tall hats, a very few black 
gowns but all were evidently possessed of one heart 
and one soul, and animated by a single desire to show 
respect to the memory of the deceased prelate. The 
special train returned from Petworth at five o' clock, dis- 
persing that large funeral party over London about 
seven, and our principal topic of discussion as we went 
back so strangely does life ever trench on death, and 
action supervene on anything like sentiment was who 
will be the Bishop's successor ; and to whom will the 
inevitable translation hold out a prize in the Church in 
the shape of the ' vacant mitre ' ? 


CAN remember the time when a Church of England 
service was made positively repulsive to a child. My 
only wonder is, when I cast back my thoughts over the 
annals of my own childhood, that the experiences of that 
portion of my existence did not permanently disgust 
me with all the influences of so-called ' religion/ A 
wretched schoolboy with twenty minutes' walk between 
me and school, I was doomed to sit each morning of the 
weary year, and hear the Bible read through seriatim, a 
chapter each prayer time, as though there was some 
talismanic virtue in those arbitrary divisions, and worse 
than that all Browne's lengthy ' Reflections ' after- 
wards. How devoutly I used to wish Browne had died 
when he was a poor little scrub like myself, instead of 
living to punish me with his weak dilution of Bible-and- 


water. The household where I lived never emerged 
very early, arid when it happened to be a long chapter 
in Chronicles, with lots of hard names over which the 
reader broke his shins, or the 119th Psalm, I passively 
resigned myself to the twofold misery of going without 
my breakfast and getting an ( iinposs ' for being late ; 
while, when the reading was over, and Thornton's 
Family Prayers were drawled through, I learnt my 
Horace repetition on my chair, or varied the proceedings 
by pulling the cook's cap off, and making her gurgle 
with suppressed laug'hter. The servants especially 
one particular cook I can recall from the numbers of 
new faces we saw during the year hated Browne as 
much as I did,, and never used to call me to Family 
Prayers, but phrased her summons thus, ' Now, then, 
come to Reflections/ 

But it was on Sunday my agony culminated. We 
Lad ' Reflections ' in the morning; then service at an 
Evangelical church; that is, we ' sat under* Mr So-and- 
so. The sitting was, in fact, the main portion of our 
attendance ; for Mr So-and-so preached for an hour and 
a quarter, and habitually raved himself blue-black in the 
face. It was expected of him, and he did his duty con- 
scientiously, and died early. In the afternoon we had 
Catechism - Sacraments and all which was simply 
' not understanded ' of me. I wonder we did not have 
the Thirty-nine Articles and the Athanasian Creed. 
Evening Service was a minor misery, it was shorter,, and 
a weak curate was sometimes allowed to preach, though 
my people said there was nothing feeding in f poor' Mr 
Such-and-such's ' discourses/ I was glad to get to bed, 
even with the prospect of the morning's ' Reflections.' 

How different the service which it is the object of this 
paper to describe ! I will not name the particular 
church where it took place, because I have my doubts 
whether it was quite ship-shape, orthodox, legal, accord- 
ing to Act of Parliament and all that kind of thing ; but 
it was very nice, and I would not for the world get the 
good people who organized it into trouble. Let us call 
the church St Asterisk' s_, and the officiating clergyman 




Mr Blank. It was an afternoon service, which is 
generally a soporiferous affair. The service is long, and 
we know it will all have to be gone over again under 
happier auspices in the evening. The choristers are 
sleepy and sing flat, and the organist deputizes ; while 
fifty form a large congregation, including the sponsors 
for the subsequent baptisms. To-day, however, there 
was a large congregation, composed of small, not to say 
infinitesimal units. The front blocks of the centre aisle 
on both sides, some six or eight pews deep, were filled 
with school-children; the seat-holders having relin- 
quished their vested interests pro tern, in favour of the 
juveniles. Poor little bantlings in faded bits of showy 
finery were in the chief seats of the synagogue, and the 
people in the gold rings and goodly apparel had volun- 
tarily gone behind, or located themselves in the free 
seats. There were lots of children here too, more 
heavily costumed. They were, I grieve to say, talking 
undisguisedly, and altogether promised to be as fidgety 
a congregation as ever gathered within the walls of a 
church; but, as soon as the bell stopped, the organist, 
a lady volunteer, struck up some bright little symphony, 
and then enter the Kev. Mr Blank, to lively music. 
He did not frown at the talking children, though his 
own surpliced choristers were as demure as mutes. 
There were no men; they stood aloof from the after- 
noon service as inartistic and infra dig. After a very 
short silent prayer Mr Blank gave out Hymn 'No. 361, 
Ancient and Modern, and there was no more talking. 
All the little ones sang it full-voiced, for it was one they 
knew in school. It commences thus 

' Once in royal David's city 

Stood a lowly cattle shed, 
Where a mother laid her baby 

In a manger for His bed. 
Mary was that mother mild. 
Jesus Christ her little cnild.' 

If in the days of my childhood I had heard a choir 
suddenly start that cheerful tune, I should have thought 


tliey had all turned { wicked/ or that I was asleep and 
dreaming it was a week-day. But it was very touching, 
actually screamed out as it was by most of the school- 
children. The choristers either smiled" or looked scan- 
dalized, and some of the bigger ones .remained mute, 
feeling their reputation at stake. When it was done, 
the clergyman sang the Litany, which had been omitted 
in the morning, the children making the responses very 
sweetly and correctly, and then there was another hymn, 
which Mr Blank had found, I fear, in some very unor- 
thodox collection, and had a few copies struck off by 
the church-printer, himself teaching the air to. the 
school- children and choristers. It was called ' Only 
beginning the journey/ and it struck me so much that 
I must print it. I devoutly hope I am infringing no- 
body's copyright. If I am, I apologize beforehand. 

' Only beginning the journey, 

Many a mile to go ; 
Little feet how they patter, 

Wandering to and fro. 
Trying again so bravely, 

Laughing in baby glee ; 
Hiding its face in mother's lap, 
Proud as a baby can be. 

Only beginning, &c. 

' Talking the oddest of language 

Ever before was heard, 
But mother you'd hardly think so 

Understands every word. 
Tottering now and falling, 

Eyes are going to cry, 
Kisses and plenty of love-words, 
Willing again to try. 

Only beginning, &c. 

' Father of all, guide them, 

The pattering little feet, 
While they are treading the uphill road, 

Braving the dust and heat. 
Aid them when they grow weary, 

Keep them in pathways blest ; 
And, when the journey is ended, 
Saviour, give them rest. 

Only beginning, &c.' 


When it was over I found myself .rubbing my eyes 
I suppose because it was so unlike an ordinary hymn 
'From lowest depths of woe,' c There is a fountain filled 
with blood/ or anything of that kind and I wanted to 
see if I was wide awake. I have a notion a good many 
mothers with their children and one or two big bearded 
fathers were rubbing their eyes too. Mr Blank, singing 
out lustily himself, seemed to float in a sort of mist up 
into the pulpit, and, before I could quite realize that he 
was not in an aquarium, he had commenced the touching 
collect for Innocents' Day. This, again, is worth tran- 

' Almighty Grod, who out of the mouths of babes 
and sucklings hast ordained strength, and madest 
infants to glorify Thee by their deaths : mortify and kill 
all vices in us, and so strengthen us by Thy grace that 
by the innocency of our lives, and constancy of our 
faith even unto death, we may glorify thy Holy Name : 
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen' 

Now here, again, I had expected, ' Prevent us, 
Lord ! ' how that word ' prevent ' used to perplex me 
as a child ! or, ' Blessed Lord, who hast caused all Holy 
Scriptures to be written for our learning,' &c. The 
idea of making the different parts of the service dove- 
tail one into the other, or bear any sort of reference 
either to other, had never occurred to us then. The 
parson had ' Prevent us ' and ' Blessed Lord ' pasted 
into his sermon- case, so why should he ' fash ' himself to 
hunt up new Collects ? 

Hereupon ensued what I suppose must in courtesy be 
termed a sermon. I had dreaded a c catechizing/ that 
awful process of extracting from unwilling juveniles in- 
formation which has been carefully drilled into them 
during the previous week. But no; we had this 
' address/ To me it sounded more as though Mr Blank 
was reading the Death of Little Nell or Paul Dombey 
than preaching a sermon. But the children certainly 
listened to him. The parents were the most attentive, 

' Children/ he said without giving out the ghost of 



a text ' I want to ask you to listen while I read a part 
of one of the most beautiful chapters in the Bible ; the 
words of the Ecclesiastes or Wise Preacher the last 
chapter of the Book that bears his name, and which, 
along with the Proverbs of Solomon, comes immediately 
after David's exquisite Psalms, just as our sermon 
follows our hymns. The chapter opens thus 

' Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while 
the evil days coine not, nor the years draw nigh when thou shalt 
say, " I have no pleasure in them ; ''while the sun, or the light, or 
the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return 
after the rain.' 

What a description that is of childhood ; of the time 
of life through which you are passing, and which we, 
your parents and teachers and clergymen, have left so 
far behind, yet have not forgotten. As we look back to 
the old happy days of home our earliest homes and 
childhood and youth, we feel, I dare say, more than you 
do, how truly the words of this golden-mouthed preacher 
describe them, as the time when the evil days had not 
come, nor the years when we should say as some of us 
have learned to say C I have no pleasure in them/ 
Though of course we had, and you have, little passing 
sorrows, yet they were only like the shadows that flit 
across the fields on a day of April or autumntide, and 
which appear sent there to make the sunshine more en- 
joyable. It seems now, at all events when we look back, 
as though it had been always Sunday then (I groaned 
as I thought what my Sundays had been, and how in- 
finitely I preferred the Monday mornings), as though 
the days were always sunny and the nights moonlit 
or starry; and. when the little showers of tears cleared 
away it was a long, long time before the clouds came 
down again. You see I am only putting into slightly 
different words what Ecclesiastes says about childhood ; 
and I repeat it because I want to fix those words in 
your memories, and make you understand something 
at least of wha,t a good thing God gives you in your 
childhood. You will not understand all about it until 
you get to look back upon it as we do. The writings of 


most poets are full of these recollections of home and 
childhood, and the contrast between early and later days 
in life. Some very plaintive ones, which I dare say 
many of you recollect, come into my mind as I speak to 
you. They were written by one who, amidst much pain 
and trial and sorrow, still made his life and the lives of 
those around him bright and cheerful and happy 

' I remember, I remember, 

The house where I was born, 
The little window where the sun 

Came peeping in at morn ; 
He never came a whit too soon, 

Or brought too long a day, 
But now I often wish the night 

Had borne my breath away.' 

And he concludes by some words which sound sadder 
than they really are 

' Now 'tis little joy, 
To feel I'm farther off from Heaven 
Than when I was a boy.' 

Tempora mutantur ! I thought. Fancy quoting Tom 
Hood in a sermon ! 

Now those of you continued Mr Blank who are 
old enough to look a little forward in life, and think 
what a fine thing it will be to be men and women, will 
perhaps be surprised and discouraged to hear me talking 
thus, as though it were really a bad thing to grow up, 
as though it were literally true, as those of old time used 
to say, that the persons Grod loved best died young. I 
am not saying that, and this chapter, with its solemn 
c Vanity of vanities, all is vanity/ does not say so either. 
I would not, and the Bible would not, ask you to forego 
one bold plan, or cheat yourselves of one smile in life, 
provided it be a good and! holy one. Beligion was never 
meant to bring clouds on your young lives, but to be a 
sunshine all life through. 

Again, I could not help thinking, parenthetically, of 
the chapters in Chronicles and Browne's Eeflections. 

It is not a little way the Ecclesiastes is looking for*- 


ward, bufc a long way from one extreme of life to the 
other, from golden childhood to gray silvery old age. 
And then how beautiful and perfect the contrast is ! It 
is the contrast between morning and evening, between 
spring and winter. Shadowed evening and snowy winter 
seem sad in comparison of brilliant morning and bloom- 
ing summer; and so they are, very sad and solemn. 
Their joys are joys of quite a different sort. This is the 
Preacher's picture of old age. He has a purpose in 
putting it close beside his picture of childhood, in run- 
ning the one actually into the other. 

' In the clay when, the keepers of the house shall tremble, and 
the strong rnen shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease be- 
cause they are few, and those that look out of the windows shall be 
darkened, and the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the 
sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of 
the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be brought low. 
Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears 
shall be in the way, and the almond-tree shall flourish, and the 
grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail, because 
and here follows his picture of death man goeth to his long 
home, and the mourners go about the streets.' 

I wish I had time to tell you how well this perfect 
picture describes the failure of the different powers and 
faculties in old age, and the going back of the old to 
second childhood. But one great point the Preacher 
wants to bring before you is how soon the one state 
passes into the other, childhood to age, life to death. 
It seems such a short time ago since I was sitting a little 
child like one of you, and listening to a preacher, not 
thinking I should ever come to preach myself ! 

And another lesson the great lesson of all, in fact 
is, that this failure of the powers, this passing from life 
to death, does not only take place in advanced age : 
sometimes it really is a very Jittle while, as it always 
seems a very little while, before the rest of Ecclesiastes' 
picture is realized 

' Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, 
or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel be broken 
at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, 


and the spirit shall return unto (rod who gave it. Yanity of 
vanities, saith the Preacher, all is vanity. 3 

Go to any of the crowded cemeteries around this 
great city, where the sleepers in Jesus lie waiting for 
the Resurrection, and you will see what I mean. You 
will see how many graves of little children there are 
amongst those of aged persons and people in what 
we call the prime of life. I don't consider this a sad 
subject, or I should not mention it here. I call it the 
happiest subject we could talk about, if it only im- 
presses on your minds the moral of the great Preacher's 
sermon ' Remember now thy Creator in the days of 
thy youth/ 

I have known what it is to follow one of my own 
children, who a little while before was healthy and well, 
to that same quiet sleeping-place. I have seen his 
little pale face looking up at me out of his coffin, and, 
sad as I was to lose him, I assure you I don't think 
sadly of him now. I take his brothers and sisters 
every now and then to hang flowers on the little cross 
above his grave ; but I do feel with regard to him what 
a dead writer wrote of a little lost child : If one weak 
wish of ours could call that child back again, which of 
us would dare to utter it ? 

There Mr Blank as nearly as possible quoted Dickens 
in church ! We must, I felt, be ' on the eve of some 
great change tantamount to the Deluge, or the Battle 
of Armageddon, or something of the kind. 

Remember your Creator, he concluded. Think on 
(rod, and try to live like your Saviour now ; and then, 
whenever you die, in childhood or old age, the day 
need not be a dark one for you. I am not trying to 
put old heads on young shoulders. I am only telling 
you to do what you promise to do every time you say 
your Catechism. Be good, obedient, teachable child- 
ren, as Jesus was, so that whether you die young or 
live to be ever so old, it may be written of you as it 
was of the child Christ at Nazareth, ' He increased in 
wisdom and in stature, and in favour with God and 


And so Mr Blank's little congregation resolved itself 
into atoms. They did not file out two and two, as I 
had expected to see them. There was a miniature 
Babel for a few minutes, and then all was quiet ; while 
I sat still there, and saw Mr Blank pass to the font, 
and take some smaller fragments of humanity still in 
his arms, saying over each when gifted with the Chris- 
tian name 

'We receive this^ child into the congregation of 
Christ's flock, and do sign it with the sign of the Cross, 
in token that hereafter it shall not be ashamed to con- 
fess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight 
under His banner against sin, the world, and the devil, 
and to continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant 
unto its life's end. Amen/ 

And so as Bunyan says I passed on my way. 
I felt that Mr Blank, parson though he was, had 
given me an idea or two, that had never been in- 
spired by Browne's Reflections or the chapters in 



ON the 17tli of June, 1875, there took place, at the 
City Temple, a meeting which, if it accomplished 
its ends, and those ends were pushed to their purely 
legitimate issues, would have the effect of breaking 
down the middle wall of partition between the Church 
of England and Nonconformity, and so gradually 
abolishing the very term Unorthodoxy in reference 
to the National Church. The meeting was called in 
consequence of adverse decisions being given by Mr 
Fitzjames Stephens and Mr Benjamin Shaw as to the 
right of the Hon. and Rev. R. Fremantle to preach in 
the City Temple, as he had been advertised to do in 
the early part of the year, but was prevented by the 
Bishop of London. Each of these legal gentlemen 
arrived at the same conclusion, though by different 
courses of argument, as will be seen in the course of the 
discussion which ensued. Viewed especially in conjunc- 
tion with the suspension of Mr Mackonochie, which took 
effect on the preceding Sunday, and elicited a remarkably 
plain-spoken sermon from Father Stanton at St Alban's, 
it is scarcely too much to say that this experiment 
as to the elasticity of the Church, of England system 
was a very crucial one indeed, especially since it oc- 
curred on the very eve of the time when the Public 
Worship Bill came into operation. It is difficult, of 
course, when writing during such a period of transition, 


to calculate the probable issues on the fortunes of the 
Church of England ; but, taking our stand towards the 
latter end of the month of June, 1875, and glancing 
round the religious horizon, there are not wanting signs 
of the times to assure us that the epoch is a very critical 
one indeed. We stand upon the eve of that grand 
panacea the Public Worship Bill coming into action. 
Will that suffice to bind us all in the rigid bonds of 
an artificial uniformity ; or will the free spirit of the 
National Church break out in manifold varieties of 
action ? Such were the thoughts that were coursing 
through the minds of the more thoughtful amongst us 
when the meeting was convened in the City Temple. 
Among those present were the Dean of Westminster, 
Mr Samuel Morley, M.P. (who presided), Sir Thomas 
Chambers, M.P., Sir Charles Reed, Chairman of the 
London School Board, Sir Henry Havelock, Mr Thomas 
Hughes, Q.C., the Hon. and Rev. W. H. Fremantle, 
the Rev. Samuel Minton, the Rev. Dr Stoughton, the 
Rev. Dr Parker (minister of the City Temple), the Rev. 
Newman Hall, the Rev. Thomas Aveling, and the Rev. 
Alexander Hannay, Secretary of the Congregational 
Union. Mr Aveling being asked to open the proceed- 
ings, with prayer, displayed admirable tact by using 
only the Lord's Prayer, which was certain to offend no 
one. Then the chairman, in a singularly temperate 
speech, said that this subject needed the calm con- 
sideration of all earnest men. It was important that 
the state of the law should be known j it was not 
the common law which forbade this interchange of 
pulpits, but the ecclesiastical law, which dated back 
before the time of the Reformation. Nothing, he 
urged, would so strengthen the hands of the Epis- 
copal Church as the abolition of the present restric- 
tion ; but still even a bad law must be obeyed as long 
as it was the law. The question was whether this 
really did represent the law; and Mr Morley offered 
to hold any clergyman harmless who would try the 
experiment. If Mr Fremantle, for instance, would try 
it, he would guarantee him against pecuniary loss. He 


did not ask liim to decide on such a course then ; but 
he wished it to be understood that he was ready with 
his contribution. 

Writing as we do from the Orthodox or Church of 
England point, of view (for the term is only employed 
in its most technical and artificial sense), our interest 
naturally hinges upon the utterances of the clergy of 
the Establishment. The Hon. and Rev. E. Frernantle 
then said that, all his life long, he had felt growing 
within him the desire for Christian unity. At the 
Oxford Union his first speech had been made in favour 
of admitting Dissenters to the Universities, and nine- 
teen years afterwards he saw that point carried. He 
himself was a loyal Church of England man if not, 
his words would have no significance it was his Church 
by birth and profession, and he was most anxious to 
obey those in authority; but still he could see its 
defects. He was not a revolutionist, but he was an 
enthusiastic Church reformer, and he thought the one 
great defect that needed a remedy in the Church of 
England was her exclusiveness. The opinions, it was 
true, were adverse, he said; but he added, in a crisp, 
pleasant voice which characterized his whole speech, 
there were crumbs of comfort in them. It was a con- 
solation to know that though we were not free in this 
respect in England, yet we were in Scotland, Ireland, 
and America. The canons could not carry across the 
Channel. The fact of the Archbishop of York and the 
late Bishop of Winchester having officiated in Presby- 
terian Churches on the other side the border, threw 
a great shield over him and his coadjutors in their 
present proceedings. It was not on dogmatic grounds 
that this exclusiveness was maintained; not because 
Dissenters were schismatics, but because an ancient 
law of discipline only had been allowed to come down 
from the Middle Ages per incuriam, and now we were 
beginning to feel the pinch. Mr Fitzjames Stephens 
thought such services were against the Act of Uniform- 
ity, and therefore, argued Mr Fremantle, ' Not only 
must I not come to the City Temple, but all services 


such as tliose of Messrs Moody and Sankey must be 
illegal for clergymen to attend. Theatre-services must 
be illegal ; and even prayer-meetings and family prayer 
itself would come under the category of conventicle 
services/ According to the opinion of Mr Shaw, all 
authority flowed from the Bishop's licence,, and this 
made Nonconformists mere schismatics. Now all this 
was simply an anachronism. In the Middle Ages Non- 
conformists were dangerous ; but could we regard them 
as dangerous, or even as separatists, now ? Were we 
not thankful for- the work done by such men as the 
pastor of the City Temple ? Clergymen who clung to the 
territorial system might ignore Dissenters; but fraternity 
was the root of all Christian practice, and exclusiveness 
was the source of all evils. The greatest questions 
coming on for decision were now religious ones, and 
this lack of union fomented superstition on one side 
and rationalism on the other. 

The City Temple, though it was the busy noontide 
hour of a working day, was thronged with a mingled 
crowd of church and chapel people; and loud cheers 
greeted this liberal Churchman as he resumed his seat. 
They were renewed, too, when the Hev. Samuel Minton, 
another Church of England clergyman, formerly incum- 
bent of Eaton Chapel, took Mr Eremantle's place. He 
was at one, he said, with Mr Fremantle, but they were 
not in exactly the same circumstances. He had himself 
often interchanged pulpits with Nonconformists. Happily 
for himself, he had been no party to taking counsel's 
opinion. There had been no legal decision on his own 
practice, and he believed there never would be. They 
now knew the worst, and he felt sure that the doctrines 
enunciated in the opinions that had been obtained could 
never be upheld by the Courts in this free country. 
They seemed to have ransacked everything ; but no 
legal acumen was wanted to show that their opinion 
would never be tolerated. Was it likely that 20,000 
clergymen would consent to be tied hand and foot, and 
never to open their mouths except by permission of the 
bishop, and in certain prescribed ways ? ( Are we pre- 


pared/ he asked, f to be bound down by this iron Act of 
Uniformity? ' and very audibly the assemblage answered, 
( No ; ' for Mr Minton was an impetuous speaker, and 
meant to have his questions answered when he asked 
them. Should we fraternize with Presbyterians in the 
Scottish suburb of Berwick-on-Tweed, and believe it 
illegal to fraternize with them in the English suburb ? 
How long would the Church of England hold together on 
such terms ? As it was said in ( Uncle Tom's Cabin/ so 
might it be said here, ' You can screw the safety-valve 
down if you like and sit upon it, and see where it will 
land you, and how long it will be before you are all 
caught up to meet one another in the air/ How long 
would it take to burst the ecclesiastical boiler under such 
circumstances ? If the water were lukewarm, as it used 
to be, then things might go on for ever ; but now it 
was at boiling point, and he needn't finish the sentence. 
There was one of two courses, either we must accept 
this phantom of hierarchical power from the Middle 
Ages, or we must appeal to the nation to decide by 
Parliament what is the position of the National clergy. 
We should have to pass an Act to Eemove Clerical 
Disabilities, just as we had in the case of Roman Catho- 
lics, Jews, and Dissenters. It was time to think of our- 
selves. Let us unite in free, open communion the 
common Protestantism of this country, and it would be 
the mightiest power in the world. He preferred the 
Gospel to the law in these matters, and held with Dr 
Cuyler, that the best way of doing a thing was to do it. 
In the words of Norman McLeod, he would say 

' Trust no party, church, or faction, 

Trust no leader in the fight ; 
But in every word and action, 
Trust in Gfod, and do the right ! ' 

Mr Minton was the very man for the Templars ; and, 
indeed, there was a vigour in his speech which would 
have backed up even a worse cause. He was followed 
by Dr Parker, who looked at the matter from a Noncon- 
formist's point of view. Into this it would be out of 


place under present circumstances to follow Mm, when 
we are rather gauging the opinions of Churchmen them- 
selves. The Doctor, however, in a telling speech, sug- 
gested that if fifty clergymen would make the experiment 
suggested by Mr Morley, and preach simultaneously in 
fifty Nonconformist pulpits, the battle would be won. 
He did not think Disestablishment was the only solution 
of the difficulty. ' Gentlemen of the Church of England/ 
he concluded, ' we do not undervalue your Church as a 
religious institution. Do not let a Church so glorious 
die of medigevalisru/ 

The Dean of Westminster moved the only resolution 
that was proposed : 

' That this meeting is of opinion that the restrictions 
placed upon the clergy of the Church of England, 
according to the opinions of counsel now given on the 
subject of conforming ministers taking part in services 
other than those prescribed by the Acts of Uniformity, 
are injurious to the fraternal intercourse between the 
various Protestant Churches of this land, which is im- 
peratively required in the interests of Catholic Christi- 

Dean Stanley said they might imagine that, speaking 
as he did with stammering and uncircumcised lips, after 
eloquent men who had preceded him, he felt some diffi- 
culty in approaching the delicate questions referred to in 
the opinions of counsel and in his resolution. The diffi- 
culty they had to deal with had nothing to do with either 
the question of an establishment or with that of episcopacy 
or any other system of Church government. It came 
down to them from very old times, and belonged to a 
very widespread feeling. On one occasion, when he had 
the honour of conversing with the most celebrated 
Statesman in Europe he meant Prince Bismarck that 
famous man had remarked that the ecclesiastical struggle 
in which he was engaged was not only the same as that 
in which England had fought and conquered under the 
Plantagenets, but was much older. ' It goes back/ he 


said, ' to the time when the High Priest Calchas con- 
fronted King Agamemnon over the sacrifice of Iphigenia/ 
In like manner, the principle out of which these restric- 
tions grew went back to the time when the Jews had no 
dealings with the Samaritans, and was deeply seated in 
every Church throughout the world not only in mediae- 
val, but in Protestant Churches not only in the breasts 
of Churchmen, but of Nonconformists, and it had its 
root in the inveterate desire of every communion to be 
shut up in itself to hold aloof from all who separated 
from it and from whose opinions it differed. But even 
from early times, and even in Catholic countries, the best 
spirits had struggled against it. Thus, take the case of 
excommunicated individuals. The most Christian and 
enlightened men of the age recognized as heroes the 
barons of England, who, although at the time under 
Papal excommunication, had extorted Magna Charta 
from King John ; Columba, though an excommunicated 
Irish outlaw, evangelized Scotland; and Robert Bruce, 
in spite of his being under the like ban, was honoured 
as its king and liberator. Books, again, were .circulated 
and read, notwithstanding their being placed in the 
Index ; and there had been not very long ago a case in 
Canada, in which a Catholic had been denied Christian 
burial for belonging to a society on whose catalogues 
were prohibited works, but the Supreme Court of Law 
in this country redressed the grievance. Here in Eng- 
land, Churchmen and Nonconformists make no scruple 
of reading one another's books, and he hoped he should 
never be precluded from enjoying Dr Watts' s writings 
and Dr Stoughton's excellent works on ecclesiastical 
history. And he even knew a high dignitary in the 
Roman Catholic Church who belonged to a reading club, 
many of whose books were in the Index, and who, there- 
fore, by the strict law of his Church would be denied 
Christian burial unless it was granted by the grace of 
the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. Dean 
Stanley adverted to the participation of Nonconformists 
in the benefits of church architecture ; to the dying out 
of the Quaker prejudice against church bells ; to the 


abolition of exclusiveness in education through the ad- 
mission of Dissenters to the Universities. These barriers 
of separation had been broken down to the great benefit 
of Churchmen and I^onconformists alike. At one time 
clergymen and Dissenting ministers would not have 
been seen together on the platforms of the same religious 
societies^ but now the Archbishop of Canterbury had 
been welcomed on that of the Bible Society. Many 
restrictions had disappeared, leaving comparatively few 
remnants of the old exclusiveness behind. Such a relic 
was their present difficulty. He would not underrate the 
objections to a more liberal policy. In the case of 
foreigners social relations and amenities might be suffi- 
cient in their intercourse with fellow- Christians, when 
distance or difference of language made official inter- 
changes impossible. But it was not so at home, where 
they spoke the same glorious tongue, and held the same 
great national traditions. They had been parted by 
nothing but the grievous mistakes of their forefathers, 
and they might surely reunite again, if not in organic 
union or .always, at least occasionally. It might be 
asked why could not the Dean of Westminster be con- 
tented with ministering in his own glorious Abbey. He, 
doubtless, had enough to do in his own sphere, still he 
could not forbear the desire to show at times that he 
was not parted altogether from the spiritual descendants 
of Howe and Owen, Baxter and Calamy, Penn, Wesley, 
and Robert Hall. He would not perplex the audience 
or himself with the discussion of technicalities. The 
novelty of the opinions given might remind them of a 
case not very long ago, in which the litigant startled the 
Court by demanding the wager of battle. His strange 
demand was found to be so far legal that a short Act of 
Parliament had to be passed in order to repeal the custom 
which enabled him to challenge the plaintiff to singie 
combat. The law, as they all thought, and as the counsel 
no doubt thought at the bottom of their sleeve, was a 
remnant of an ancient law which now remained in shreds 
and tatters. In trying to remedy the state of the law 
let them guard themselves from setting themselves up 


against tlie law of this country, because there was no 
liberty without law, as there was no good law without 
liberty. Let them remember the laws of England were 
imposed by the people of England, and so, in his opinion, 
the great advantage of a National Church was that it owed 
nothing to any law except that which the people of Eng- 
land imposed upon it. And, if it should so happen, after 
mature weighing of the subject, that these ancient re- 
strictions should be continued, he should not be the one 
to say he would set himself up against that decree, nor 
would it be for him to say he had forfeited Ms liberty. 
His liberty would be restricted in one particular, but 
still, on the whole, he was satisfied they were more likely 
to obtain these changes, which they all so much desired, 
by constant appeals to the public opinion of England 
and of Parliament. They would, perhaps, require a 
fresh Act now. But in any case they were all bound to 
obey the law, although they might appeal again and 
again to public opinion to conform it to what was right 
and charitable. He was glad to be among them that 
day. He concluded by saying that in their presence he 
never lowered his flag as a clergyman who gloried in the 
' freedom of the freest, the learning of the most learned, 
and the reasonableness of the most rational Church in 

Sir Thomas Chambers, the Rev. Newman Hall, Dr 
Stoughton, and Mr T. Hughes supported the resolution, 
and the Dean of Westminster, probably on the principle 
that the best way of getting rid of a bad law is to keep 
on breaking it, gave the Benediction. Surely if the 
mere act of preaching is illegal in the City Temple, a 
fortiori must the act of pronouncing the Apostolical 
Blessing be ! 

It is at this point we elect to rest, and casting our re- 
gards over the Established Church, see what is the status 
quo of things in 1875. Possibly if they go on as they 
have begun in this chapter, the old land- marks may ere 
long be broken down between orthodoxy and unortho- 
doxy, and our occupation in consequence be for ever 
gone as a chronicler of Unorthodox London at all events. 



TACIT concession appears to have been made, I 
know not on what grounds, that in order to discover 
anything like preaching power, you must be outside the 
limits of the Established Church. I entirely demur 
to that position. I have had, I suppose, as much oppor- 
tunity of judging as any man living. My mission, for 
several years past, has been to hear rather than to preach, 
or simultaneously with preaching, sermons; and I can 
confidently say that the idea is altogether a fallacious 
one. Its origin is not far to seek. We are still, in our 
degree, like the Athenians in the Agora, fond of hearing 
or telling some new thing; and whilst every sect outside 
the pale of the National Church has either some new 
thing to tell, or some new method of telling it, the clergy 
of the Church of England are kept, and happily so, to 
the ' old, old story ' if one may quote those words in 
such connection ; while even their mode of telling it is 
hedged round with salutary restrictions, elastic enough, 
it is true, since freedom of speech appertains equally to 
Mr Magee and Dean Stanley, Mr Haslam and Mr Haweis ; 
but still there is a line of circumvallation, and within 
that line I am bold to say there is at least as much pul- 
pit power as outside. Mr Spurgeon or Mr Moody may 
each have his own particular way of putting things which 
will attract many, but which repels just as many ; while 
Mr Yoysey may strike us with such announcements as 
that of a sermon on the Immorality of the Doctrine of 
the Atonement. All these things draw ; and half the 
secret of a clever advertisement depends upon striking 
announcements such as these. If, however, we can be 
content to look a little below the surface, and to value 
edification rather than excitement, we shall find that the 


point is most unwisely conceded as to pulpit oratory 
having died out from the Church. It has developed 
wonderfully outside, beyond a doubt. Congregational 
bodies simply must sustain this power, or become effete ; 
but we are stating only a half-truth when we say that 
the power within the Church has quite kept pace in its 
development with the power outside. So much, how- 
ever, is sufficient for our present purpose. 

It was in such a frame of mind and feeling, perhaps 
just a little blase withh eretical utterances, that I re- 
solved to go one Sunday morning to the very fons et origo 
of our Church of England Christianity, and hear the 
Archbishop of Canterbury preach at the City church of 
St Lawrence, Jewry. 

There is no sight more striking than the appearance 
of the City on a Sunday morning. The streets are 
emptied of their week-day throngs, and only a few folks 
in their Sunday best journey along the desolate thorough- 
fares, while bells chime out with strange clang*our from 
the numerous steeples. Everybody seemed bent for 
St Lawrence, Gresham Street, for were not the Lord 
Mayor and Sheriffs going to what I suppose is the parish 
church for the Mansion House? At all events a huge 
square pew stands in the very middle of the nave at St 
Lawrence's, as large as a moderate room, with a table 
and chairs in the centre, besides the ordinary seats round, 
and with the civic insignia in wrought-iron surmounting 
it. There was a good congregation assembled at twenty 
minutes to eleven, and very soon the City Marshal ar- 
rived, and made everything straight for the expected 
magnates. At eleven they entered in procession pre- 
ceded by a sword and mace-bearer, and ladies where 
are ladies not ? mingling with the scarlet robes and court 
dresses of the civic potentates. Soon after, a choir of 
about fifty boys and men in surplices came in, followed 
by the Incumbent (Mr Walrond) and the Archbishop. 
During the brief period of waiting, I had ample time 
to admire the handsome church, and note the curious 
mosaic of the Ascension over the altar,, as also the 
epitaph running beneath the south-east memorial 



window, ' Thomas de Kelleseye, Citizen of Milk Street. 
Died A.D. 1300. Domine, dilexi decorem dornus tuss. 3 

Knowing the recent changes which had come upon 
the cultus of St Lawrence,, I was agreeably surprised to 
hear the prayers admirably intoned by the curate, the 
choir taking the harmonized Confession, and altogether 
rendering the musical portion in the most effective way. 
The Yenite was sung to a Gregorian tone, the Psalms 
to florid Anglican chants, as was also the Te Deum, the 
last being taken without accompaniment. 

I could not help whispering to a loquacious gentleman 
next to me who had been talking before service began, 
'I thought you had no congregations in the City?' 
1 It's all talent, sir,' he replied. ' Get the right men and 
you could fill forty more churches in the City. You 
should have seen Mr Howsell's church before he left us/ 

There was no Litany ; and as an Introit was sung the 
appropriate hymn 

' We give Thee but Thine own, 
"Whate'er the gift may be.' 

After the Ante- Communion Service had been read by 
the Incumbent, the Archbishop ascended the pulpit to 
plead the cause of the Bishop of London' s Fund, an 
appeal which was most interesting as coming from the 
very prelate who had originated that practical measure 
of beneficence. 

His Grace took as a text, Proverbs xxii. 2 c The rich 
and poor meet together, the Lord is the Maker of them 
all.' Plunging at once into his subject, the Archbishop 
bespoke our attention to the Fund after ten years of its 
existence. It had been found, by accurate examination, 
ten years ago, that, incredible as it seemed in the centre 
of the world's civilization in the nineteenth century, 
there were a million people in the metropolis for whom 
there was no church provision. The object of the 
Bishop of London's Fund was to extend the parochial 
system of the Church of England in the metropolis. 
The overwhelming majority in this million of people be- 
longed to the poor. The rich could look after themselves. 



They liad no difficulty in finding a place in church, no 
difficulty in getting spiritual instruction, if they were 
anxious for it. But with the poor the case was different. 
It was the wish of his Graced predecessor in the See of 
London (Dr Blomfield) to extend the means of grace 
especially to the poor ; and now, after ten years' trial of 
the scheme, it would be asked what had been done ? It 
was calculated that half the evil had been met. They 
began with a million for whom there was no church : 
now, by God's blessing, they were reduced to 500,000. 
But this was still a large number, and they dared not 
cease in their work. 

The peculiarity of great centres like London, the 
Archbishop said, was that they were growing every year. 
When he was first Bishop of London there were 40,000 
persons added to the population every year. So in the 
ten years over which their efforts extended there had 
been an increment of 400,000. Recent changes in the 
diocese had reduced the annual increase to about 36,000, 
which gave a prospective increase of 360,000 for the 
next ten years. The method adopted, his Grace repeated, 
was the extension of the parochial system, adding em- 
phatically, C I know no other by which to meet these 
wants. The Congregational system will never do. I 
mean the system which appoints a minister for those who 
choose to come to him. The effort must be one of a 
missionary character. We must map out the metropolis, 
and in each district have a minister and schools. The 
parochial system is the only mode of dealing with the 
evil.-' The desire was to attend to the poor without 
neglecting the rich ; and the parochial system brought 
the rich and poor together ; and if it came to having" 
two nations in England, one rich and the other poor, 
then, not only in a spiritual but a temporal sense, 
society would be destroyed. 

This proverbial saying of the text, continued his 
Grace, can hardly be quoted as characteristic of our 
congregations in London churches. The rich and the 
poor meet together in the streets : to a certain extent 
they meet together at the theatre. It is but a sprinkling 


of tlie poor that meets the rich, face to face in most of 
our houses of God. Yet God certainly is the Maker of 
them all : they are equal in His sight : their souls 
equally precious their worship equally acceptable. 
The poor are not a less religious body than the rich. 
Considering their many trials and disadvantages they 
would stand very favourably in a comparison. 

If in many cases, as Solomon says,, the destruction 
of the poor is his poverty, yet have they privileges as 
well as trials. It is a characteristic mark of the dignity 
of the Gospel that it is preached to the poor. In many 
of the abodes in the manufacturing districts the rich and 
the poor are locally separated to a great distance ; and 
then of course it is natural to expect that they will not 
frequent the same church. But there is no such separa- 
tion in London parishes. There must be a great number 
at no great distance from your doors. And it must be 
from some great defect in our system that they appear 
in such small numbers in our churches. No doubt 
much is owing to insufficient and improper arrange- 
ments. The. labourers in our country places are not 
habitually absent from church, though their life is as 
laborious, making their bodies crave for rest after 
the six days' toil, and the wages are in many places 
as scanty, making it equally difficult for them to supply 
themselves with such clothing as they rightly deem 
fitting for the decencies of the House of God. There 
are two things that make the poor ready to go to church 
in the country and not in the town : first, they are wel- 
come if they do come ; the familiar place is ready for 
them. The old parochial system, whereby the church- 
wardens as the officers of the bishop and the parish are 
bound to seat all the inhabitants, has not become a fiction 
through the rapid growth of population. 

I am speaking of the old stationary agricultural 
parishes, where the church that was large enough to 
hold our fathers some hundred years ago is large enough 
for their descendants still ; such quiet places as a parish 
I had in Oxfordshire, where the names of many of the 
cottagers and farmers are still the same as we find 


written in the account of the place in Doomsday Book. 
This is one cause of their coming to church, that there 
is room for them and they are welcome. And though 
the squire and the chief farmers may occupy their old 
stately pews, this is not done to the exclusion of the 
poor. The second point is, that their coming or staying 
away is known and remarked on. In these country 
places they are not lost in a crowd. If it be said 
even of the rich that no man knows or cares who is 
his. next-door neighbour, what shall we say of the poor ? 
Ever migrating from one lodging to another, crowded 
often so closely together that it is almost as difficult to 
know who lives with you in the same tenement as who 
the people are whom you meet habitually by hundreds 
at certain hours of each day in the great thoroughfares, 
the generality of the poor feel in London that no man's 
eye is upon them. Their parish church is not for them 
a place where it is respectable and pleasant once a week 
to see the familiar faces of their various neighbours, 
poor and rich, and to interchange neighbourly greet- 
ings as they pass under the church porch. Unless 
these evils are remedied, and our parochial system, 
made a reality, we can scarcely expect to see the poor 
in church. 

Perhaps you will say these are not high motives for 
going to church; but we speak of them as helps to 
church-going, helps so important that the want of them 
is a serious and almost invincible difficulty. Country 
people, if you take the proportions of the two kinds of 
population, may be very little if at all better than town 
people, but they are better church-goers ; and it is no 
light advantage you gain when you bring people habitu- 
ally to church. If a man habitually neglects the ordi- 
nances of Christ's religion, depend upon it there is a 
perpetual tendency to degenerate. Those who frequent 
God's house are periodically kept under softening 1 , 
humanizing, spiritualizing influences. The man for 
whom the Lord's Day has no outward marks of sanctity, 
who loiters all through it in his working clothes, only 
distinguishing it from other days by a freer indulgence 


in the common bodily, perhaps sensual, relaxations in 
which he seeks refreshment at the intervals of toil on 
other days ; perhaps not smoking or drinking to excess, 
but still seeking nothing higher oil the Lord's Day 
than the rest of the week ; certainly this man is under 
a great disadvantage compared with his church-going 
neighbour, and we need not be surprised if he rapidly 

The Gospel of Jesus Christ places all who listen to its 
summons under great spiritual advantages. This very 
fact necessitates that those who, living within the circle 
of its influences, habitually pay no heed to their Maker, 

I trust, said the Archbishop, that a more genial Chris- 
tian feeling of brotherhood will grow up between rich 
and poor, and that they will meet together oftener to 
worship the one Father who is the Maker, the one Lord 
Jesus Christ who is the Redeemer, and will seek the one 
Holy Spirit who is the Sanctifier of them all. 

It is this which gives such importance to all efforts 
made in Christ's name for extending the parochial sys- 
tem in our crowded London. By bringing our people 
into our churches, tending their children in our schools, 
visiting and helping them at their homes in sickness and 
distress, we desire to make them all live together as 
Christian neighbours sympathizing with each other. We , 
desire to save them from debasing influences and a per- 
petual tendency to degenerate. We desire to bring 
them within the reach of other influences which, viewed 
in the commonest worldly aspect, must be elevating', and 
which, through the blessing of the Holy Spirit, must be 
a fertile source of good. 

' The rich and the poor meet together, the Lord is' 
the Maker of them all.' They are equal in His sight. 
' Christianity/ says Chalmers, f is in one sense the 
greatest of all levellers. 3 Those false distinctions which 
old philosophers drew between Greeks and barbarians, 
freemen and slaves, the educated and mechanic class, 
even between man and man, were all obliterated in the 
great ingathering of the Christian Church, which knows 


no difference but that of piety, of growth in the graces 
of the Holy Spirit knows no difference between bar- 
barian and Scythian, bond and free, but acknowledges 
Christ as their all in all, whatever the race, condition, 
or degree; if they strive to follow Him in simplicity and 
truth. Strange that common sense, to say nothing of 
common natural religion, should not have suggested 
that in one sense all men are really equal alike in the 
helplessness of their birth, alike in the temptations of 
their lives, alike in the loathsomeness of their decay. 
All have one beginning, while, wide as adventitious 
circumstances may keep them apart one from the other 
in their days of worldly prosperity or adversity, they 
have all one end. All begin in helpless infancy : all end 
in the helplessness which leads them to one inevitable 
grave. And wide as they are apart while they live, how 
alike are they in their temptations, which proceed from 
their one common human nature, and affect them with 
wonderful similarity, however different be their lots. 
The king's and the beggar's sins spring from the same un- 
restrained animal propensities, to be resisted and disci- 
plined through the same grace of Grod. Again, how like 
are they, after all, in their degrees of happiness ! It is 
not wealth or station that secures contentment. It is 
an old story that misery creeps alike into cottages and 
halls ; that happiness worldly happiness is for poor 
as well as for rich, if they have a good conscience, good 
health, and are not in debt. Indeed it is wonderful, 
considering the vast difference of men's worldly circum- 
stances, how near we are brought to each other in the 
degree of enjoyment they secure. Wonderfully alike, 
too, are they in their sufferings. What is the most 
common cause of suffering in the world ? I will say 
failure of health. What guarantee have the rich that 
their health will be better than that of the poor ? Is 
there not a wonderful similarity between the pains that 
rack the well-cared-for body on its couch of down, and 
the one that lies stretched on the pallet in the hospital ? 
And if we are so alike in our bodily sicknesses, what 
of our soul's ailments ? Young men of the upper and 


lower classes, there is no perceptible difference in tlie 
sort of sin into which they fall. The arrangements of 
society may establish a different code in the case of 
young women, poor and rich ; yet is there the family 
resemblance between all the daughters of Eve. 

We might run through villages and find it the same 
men and women wonderfully alike. The difference 
which marks them is not difference of station, age, or 
sex. There is a great and real difference between 
health and sickness, and still greater between a life of 
belief and of sin a life in which much is done for God's 
service, and one in which time and talents are wasted 
for the world and the devil. My friends, let us con- 
sider our likeness and our difference. Alike sinners 
alike trusting to the Blood of Christ alike sanctified, if 
sanctified at all, by the one Holy Spirit. This, according 
to the Gospel, is the one condition of rich and poor, all 
alike capable of being members incorporated into the 
blessed company of Christ's redeemed. 

Thus ended a very eloquent, as well as a very prac- 
tical discourse. 

As a sign of the largeness of the congregation, the 
curate had to read all the offertory sentences through, 
and then stand a long time silent and blushing while 
the collection was being made. The very bell-ringers 
grew impatient, and had to be stopped in the middle' of 
a merry peal they had struck up when they thought 
the Lord Mayor ought to have been coming out of 




BY a happy combination of events, I had the oppor- 
tunity of hearing, on two consecutive Sundays, the 
two Archbishops of the Church of England, under cir- 
cumstances to a great extent characteristic of each. I 
heard Dr Tait discourse on the Bishop of London's 
Fund, of which he was the originator, and reported his 
sermon above ; while, on the following Sunday, I found 
the Archbishop of York would preach at the Temple 
Church, before a congregation which I ventured to 
think very well adapted to his style of pulpit oratory. 
Having only discovered late on Saturday night that the 
Archbishop was to preach, I had no opportunity of get- 
ting a bencher's order; and therefore, determined to be 
in time, I got to the Temple Station before half-past 
ten o'clock. Quite a small procession piloted me over 
the well- swept crossing leading up to the Temple 
Gardens, but the wicket was not yet open, so we par- 
ticularly early birds had to enter via Essex Street. It 
seemed a queer combination of the Law and the Gospel 
as one went through the quiet courts to church, and the 
tardy spring made the plash of the fountain amid the 
delicate green leaves in the garden quite enjoyable. 
But our small procession passed quickly on, and we 
found a little crowd round the entrance, while ladies, 
red-faced and panting, kept arriving and adding to the 
numbers. I told a verger, whom I saw habited in gown 
of russet and yellow, that I had no order, but directly I 
stated my mission all difficulty vanished, and he placed 
me in about the best seat in the church. While we 
waited we could hear the choir practising in the distance ; 
and the unseen chorus, combined with the surroundings 


of gray arches and storied windows, gave quite a 
dramatic character to our position. 

Precisely at eleven o' clock, while the organist played 
' In native worth/ the surpliced choir entered, followed 
by Mr Ainger, the Eeader at the Temple, and the Arch- 
bishop, who wore his doctors hood over his episcopal 
vestments. I was surprised to find that the sentences 
and exhortation were read, and so, as I afterwards dis- 
covered, were all the portions of the service where the 
choir did not join with the minister. The Confession 
was intoned, and an old gentleman next me, incapable, 
I presume, of singing on the upper G-, took it an octave 
lower, and growled out his responses in a tremendous 
basso profondo. The Venite was sung to a Gregorian, 
but the Psalms were chanted first to double Anglicans 
the jubilant melody of Beckwith alternating with the 
plaintive one of Cooke in Psalms 44, 45 while Psalm 
46 was taken in a single Gregorian, sung in unison, the 
effect of such alternation being, to my thinking, 
exceedingly agreeable. I do not for one moment see 
why we should draw a hard and fast line between the 
two styles, or why the Gregorian music should be re- 
served for penitential psalms. Psalm 46 is a joyous one, 
and the massive cadences of the unison Gregorian suited 
it exactly. The Canticles were taken to the tuneful 
' service ' of Arnold in B flat, where, ever and anon, the 
melody is given on the organ, the choir singing, so to 
say, the accompaniment with very pleasing effect. The 
Apostles' Creed was in harmonized monotone. My old 
friend did the soprano part of the suffrages that followed 
in his original basso profondo, with very remarkable 
result indeed. 

The anthem was, ' Thy mercy, Lord/ by Mr E. J. 
Hopkins, organist of the Temple, and contained a 
beautiful quartet, ' continue forth Thy loving-kind- 
ness ! ' which was all the more telling from its contrast 
with the choruses which preceded and succeeded it. 
The Litany was somewhat hybrid in character, the 
priest's part being read and the choir's portion sung. 
This is a pity, because the reader in this case has no 


sort of reason, save and except persistent custom, for 
adhering literally to his name, since he chants the 
service very effectively indeed. The metrical hymns 
sung as Introit and before the sermon were very fine. 
They always are when a first-rate choir will condescend 
to sing them, and why should they not ? The collection 
of tunes used at the Temple Church is a very eclectic 
one. The former hymn was the well-known one, ' Erect 
your heads, eternal gates/ and the second was sung to 
a quaint old air from the Scotch Psalter. 

The Archbishop read the Ante-Communion Service in 
a fine manly voice, almost in monotone, taking his 
reciting note deftly from the kyrie which was still 
Arnold in B flat. The Archbishop read in what might 
be termed an imperceptible G, not by any means singing, 
but still reading, so that his pitch should not, jar with 
the refrain of the choir. I noticed, too, that his Grace 
sang the kyrie himself. 

After reading a ' Bidding Prayer ' in the pulpit, which 
nay conscientious old neighbour repeated sotto voce, Dr 
Thomson gave out as his text 1 Cor. xv. 14, 15 ; and 
upon it preached one of the most able sermons to which 
it has ever been my good fortune to listen. Such a 
congregation as that at the Temple must be almost a 
source of inspiration in itself. Whether it inspired the 
Archbishop or not I cannot say, but I noticed that, 
although he had a MS. before him, he scarcely ever 
referred to it. The sermon was, in fact, virtually an 
extempore one, We were standing, said the preacher, 
on that Sunday after Ascension Day, between two great 
parts of the Christian Dispensation, the former being 
the great supernatural facts of Chrises Incarnate life 
recorded in the Gospel, and the second the fact of 
Pentecost, which proved that Christianity was still a real 
power in the world. People were prone to talk in these 
times of ' Supernatural Religion/ as if it were possible 
to have a religion that was not supernatural. It was 
scarcely possible to conceive a revelation of God's will 
that should not include miracles. In considering the 
evidence for the acts of Christ, such as His Eesur- 


recfcion and Ascension, it was not necessary to debate 
as to whether every word in the Bible was inspired, be- 
cause a very small portion of it would be sufficient for 
this purpose. 

We now, said his Grace, turn to discuss the case 
with those who do accept the Holy Scriptures. For 
them I now proceed to speak of 1. The conscious 
witness of the Apostles ; 2. Their unconscious testi- 
mony ; 8. The witness of St Paul; 4. The connection 
and consistency of the whole history. 

1. Now of the conscious testimony of the Apostles, 
it is only necessary to say that the Apostles began in 
the midst of Jerusalem, within a few weeks of the 
Crucifixion, among the very people who had seen Jesus 
borne along to His death, and where contradiction 
would have been -easiest, to preach of Christ as one 
whom ' God hath raised up, whereof we all are wit- 
nesses/ and that this, the burden of the first sermon on 
the day of Pentecost, was the subject of every later 
utterance. They had no fear that in Jerusalem such a 
notion would be laughed to scorn ; nor did they think 
of keeping it back, in Ephesus or Corinth, as a thing 
less interesting to those distant places, which had never 
known Him. Belief in a risen Saviour was evidently 
that which they expected from all their hearers alike. 
On this point it would be a waste of time to insist; no 
one who looks at the New Testament even carelessly 
can doubt it at all. 

2. But the unconscious testimony of the Apostles 
requires a few words of explanation. They saw their 
Master taken away. They were appalled at the cruelty 
with which men assailed his life. They knew not what 
to think, when He allowed the wicked to prevail against 
Him even unto death. They were scattered when He 
was first taken ; but they watched Him still with feel- 
ings of hope. Peter and John were not far off; but 
the others also watched, hoping that, before the con- 
summation of the deed the power of heaven would 
interpose. Instead of this there came death. Upon 
the Cross He hangs, that had led them and cheered them 


with hopes, a dead man. The lips that taught them 
are livid and motionless. The eye whose glance of 
kindness they had relied on to sustain them is void of 
speculation. The priests turned homeward content 
with their complete victory; and the disciples have 
nothing to console them in the completeness of their 
defeat, except the recollection that the death was one 
full of patience and of God. But their hopes are gone. 
It is useless now to speculate on the nature of His 
kingdom ; there shall be no kingdom more. 

Amazed and confounded, they cannot collect their 
thoughts so as to form a new opinion of Him who has 
so disappointed them. 'We trusted that it had been 
He which should have redeemed Israel/ That is the 
temper in which the disciples, perhaps without excep- 
tion, enter into the eventful period between the Cruci- 
fixion and the Ascension, known often as 'the great 
forty days;' and at the end of that period they emerge 
brave, confident, ready to face death for their con- 
victions, and ready to make the death of Christ, which 
so destroyed their hopes, the centre of their teaching 
unto the end. Now you will confess that this change 
was great. They had lost the hope of their life ; they 
found it again. They had given up all attempts to 
understand the ways of God in such a grievous blow ; 
they understood His plan now completely. What had 
passed in the intervening time ? The Lord Himself 
had come back again and changed their mourning into 
joy. On the very day of His resurrection strange 
reports came to them. Pious women who had loved 
Him much had seen Him again. Two disciples, not of 
the twelve, going wearily and heavy of heart, had been 
joined by a stranger, who revealed Himself to them at 
last as the Lord Himself. After an interval he appeared 
to the eleven. One of them doubted yet : but Jesus 
gave him. special proofs. He appeared to five hundred 
brethren at once. Enough is told us in the Gospels to 
show that the forty days were spent in teaching them 
to accept this momentous miracle, and it needed much 
pains. They saw him at first with astonishment and 


fear; their very powers of knowing Him were disturbed; 
for neither Mary nor those that went to Emmaus recog- 
nized Him as of old. When that short period was over, 
all the disciples, not the Apostles only, admitted nob 
merely the fact of the Resurrection, but had grown 
accustomed to the proofs of it. They had seen Him 
themselves; they knew where to find others who had 
seen Him. Ten or more appearances are on record, but 
there were probably more than these. Recognize well 
the completeness of the change. The death of Jesus 
almost overturns their reason. A month passes, and 
they appear again, not only believing the Resurrection, 
but having ceased to be surprised at it. 

3. Now consider the testimony of St Paul. It stands 
apart for several reasons. His is the only case where 
an eye-witness tells us that he has seen Christ. ' Last 
of all He was seen of me also as of one born out of due 
time.' If the disciples of the Lord may be supposed to 
be prejudiced, and to determine to find for their Master 
some high and singular destiny, that does not apply to 
St Paul. He was wholly without and beyond the circle 
of Christ's influence as a teacher. He was protected 
from that by a most fierce prejudice against the Chris- 
tians, rooted deep in his heart along with his Pharisaic 
zeal. The Lord appears to him on his way to Damascus, 
and he becomes an Apostle instead of a persecutor. 
You cannot say in his case that c the wish was father to 
the thought ; ' that a strong desire to see Jesus was 
transformed into a fancy that he had seen Him. Upon 
that very journey where he saw Him, Paul had set out 
resolved to persecute to the death all that called on 
Christ. He believed that Christ Himself was beyond 
the reach of persecution dead, departed. And lo ! 
Christ met him by the way, spoke to him, and changed 
his whole life. It is quite out of the question to say 
that this was the result of a wish and an imagination. 
His wishes lay the other way. Had he been the sport 
of dreams, some vision of Moses or of Elijah would 
have formed itself in that teeming brain, and the voice 
that spoke to him would have said, ' Well done, faithful 


servant; smite home, and consume those who are 
changing the law of your fathers/ All attempts to 
analyze in some natural way the fact of St PauPs con- 
version seem to any fair mind signal failures. The 
consequences to the Church were incalculable. To St 
Paul, under God, we owe the foundation of all the 
Churches in the West; that is, of all the Churches 
wherein the faith is most active at present. To assign 
to a delusive vision of an overwrought mind an act so 
laden with mighty consequences is contrary to all 
analogy. No life of mere man has ever been greater 
than his so ardent in zeal and so calm in judgment ; 
so heavenly in its aims and so practical in its methods ; 
so untiring in its devotion and yet so self-possessed; 
so full of dignity and yet so humble. Could we have 
known him in the flesh, how we should have respected 
his opinion, and how his ardour would have stirred us 
up ! To none of us would it have occurred that he had 
set out upon his noble mission under a delusion, the 
sport of a dream. A life, like a tree, should be judged 
by its fruits. Out of a dream come dreams ; out of a 
deep conviction and belief will come words and acts 
that accord with that conviction. Never was there a 
life lived on earth of which it would be more natural to 
say this man has known and seen Christ : and when 
he tells us that so it was, no one was ever more entitled 
to belief. 

The witness of this Apostle to the existence of 
miracles in the first age is very remarkable. When he 
writes to the Corinthians on the subject of the variety 
of spiritual gifts, he mentions as a matter well known 
to them that the gifts of doing miracles, and of speaking 
with tongues, and of healing are there in the Corinthian 
Church. He does not say that it is wonderful, or that 
it is not ; he does not argue from it that Christianity is 
true; he mentions it as an illustration of another 
subject, to those who know the facts as well as he does, 
just as one of you might say that one clergyman in your 
Church read the service more distinctly and another 
was the better preacher. St Paul came into the Church 


late, as one born out of due time. He Lad no prediS" 
position to Christian miracles ; but he found them in 
the Church, and recognized their existence. Admit 
that the First Epistle to the Corinthians is genuine, as 
indeed all, even the sceptical, admit that it is; and you 
must also admit that miracles and gifts of healing were 
familiar as household words in the Corinthian Church. 

4. Such is a sketch of the testimony on which mira- 
cles, especially that great one of the Resurrection, seem 
to rest. Eleven men gave themselves up to preach the 
Gospel of the Redeemer risen. They began to preach 
this immediately in the place where they could best be 
refuted if the tale was false, and thousands believed them. 
They did so because they had actually seen Christ after 
His death; and a great change- had certainly taken place 
in their temper and behaviour exactly at the time when 
they said they had been seeing Christ. In less than a 
hundred years there are bands of believers all over the 
civilized world, worshipping the Risen Redeemer, and 
the very foundations of society shook at their presence. 
They rested on a miracle or upon nothing. Soon St 
Paul was added to the list of Apostles. The miracle of 
Christ's appearance had changed him, or else his whole 
life and Christian activity were a delusion. That he 
found miracles being wrought in the Church he treats 
as a fact known to all. 

But it is time now to take in a few words a general 
survey of the whole argument. 

We have said that the question whether miracles have 
been wrought would depend on another whether a 
revelation of God had been given to man. When the man 
of science tells us that the laws of Nature are invariable 
and cannot be broken, we answer that this imposing" 
formula is, after all, only the sum of our experience in 
common times, and if we decline to extend it to times 
of God's nearer dealing with His people we are quite 
consistent, for experience is only good for cases of the 
same kind. To say that natural laws, as we have ob- 
served them, can never be broken through is most un- 
scientific. When space was void^ silent, and dark, it 


would be against experience that God should set spin- 
ning therein a myriad shining worlds ; but God spake 
the word, and all the worlds went forth on their course, 
and the formula of experience must receive an enlarge- 
ment. Every step in creation might have been opposed 
by the same formula c Contrary to observation/ On 
the rocky ball of earth it is against experience .that 
forests should wave, and the spring with throes of life 
give forth its marvellous growth. But it came about. 
Still it was against experience that the bird should float 
with the cloud, and the large fish roll with the wave, and 
the wild beast leap in the forest, but these were made. 
Each of these accessions of experience stretched its 
boundaries even to breaking. But experience would 
have to accept the enlargement. I grant you that the 
laws of nature are sure. I do not expect that they will 
be broken or defied to-morrow or next day by any living 
man. But the question really is, whether a revelation of 
God to man was possible. If you say ' impossible/ then 
you are right to cling to your view of the laws of nature. 
But we say, on the contrary, that after the round world, 
the kingdom of plants, the kingdom of animals, the king- 
dom of man, came a fifth kingdom, even the kingdom 
of Grod. The laws of nature are but the laws which God 
has used for His government of the world, after all. The 
history of creation, as far as we see it, has been a suc- 
cession of steps, at each of which the less has had to find 
room and to harmonize with the greater. Now comes 
the greatest of all Christ Himself has come, and God's 
laws must harmonize with the acts of the Son of God : 
we need not be careful for their observance. Yes, you 
reply ; but is it the greatest of all ? Is it more than a 
natural development of man's history ? Is it in the true 
sense a revelation ? We have come to the place where 
the two ways separate. Have we indeed received a re- 
velation ? All seems to turn on this. 

Why, then, was there such difficulty attending belief 
in this testimony ? ( I am not 'here to rail at science/ 
said Dr Thomson, ' but a right conception of science 
should find room for new truths. We are told that the 



laws of nature are inviolable, and that miracles are vio- 
lations of these laws. But that formula is only a sum- 
ming-up of our experience in common times/ It would 
not, for instance, cover the act of creation. There was 
a time when all was chaos, and (had there been any to 
observe) it would have been c contrary to experience ' for 
God to set spinning those myriads of shining worlds. 
The formula would have to be enlarged. So, too, at 
every stage of creation when the rocky ball was clothed 
with forests when birds floated in the clouds, fish in 
the waves, and wild beasts roamed the forest all were 
contrary to experience. Bach concession to experience 
had to be extended. The laws of nature were sure. It 
was not likely that one of them would be broken to- 
morrow ; but the question was whether revelation was 
possible. If you say it is impossible, then the formula 
stands. But after all the kingdoms of creation there 
came another kingdom the kingdom of God ; and in 
every case the less had to make room for the greater. 

Is it a revelation ? The question was one of more 
than mere logic. From the great past we turned to the 
future. Pentecost was a new miracle. The Lord's 
Spirit came back to work in the world. When Ignatius, 
before the Church was a century old, was asked why he 
called himself Theophoros, he answered, because he bore 
in his heart the Lord Christ. His judges were surprised, 
and asked, in ridicule, how he could bear the Crucified 
in his heart but it was a true answer. ' I do not under- 
sta.nd/ said the Archbishop in conclusion and we were 
all sorry to hear him say so after glancing at his watch 
' how any one, looking at the history of Christianity, 
can doubt whether it is the work of God in the world. 
If you do if you doubt the things that are without go 
to the Throne of Grace, kneel and ask God's Spirit that 
you may become a Theophoros, and your critical doubts 
about religion will disappear. Christ will send back 
His life into your heart. You will feel it. The bulk of 
the argument may sometimes seem against you ; but 
(you will be ready to exclaim) as I cannot, whatever the 
metaphysicians may say, deny the existence of my will, 


or of matter, so neither can I deny that Christ is nay- 
Lord. I have dealt with Him. I have spoken to Him. 
I have not only seen Him in the history of the Past, 
but I know Him in myself, and cannot doubt that He is 
my Lord and my God.' 

' A very able sermon, sir/ said my good old basso pro- 
fondo friend, as I was brushing my hat previous to de- 
parture. ' I shouldn't like to have to tackle Archbishop 
Thomson on the scientific side of Christianity/ And I 
thought my basso profondo .neighbour was perfectly 


IN no quarter of the metropolis is the growth of 
modern London more evident than in that portion of 
the Old Court suburb which surrounds the site where, 
from time to time, international exhibitions have formed 
the centre of attraction. Exhibitions may come and 
exhibitions may go, but the Old Court suburb goes on 
for ever increasing. South Kensington is a fashionable 
but an eminently church-going neighbourhood, and, 
despite a more than usually wet Sunday morning, a 
very fair congregation assembled at St Stephen's 
church to hear the Bishop of the diocese plead the- 
cause of the National Society. St Stephens is one of 
the many churches which grew up under the late Arch- 
deacon Sinclair's auspices, and were familiarly termed 
ten thousand-pounders, that being about the -qualifica- 
tion which was required to enable a clergyman to 
acquire the incumbency. The church reflects very 
fairly the culture and refinement of the neighbourhood. 
It is a handsome Gothic structure, the east end beiug 
pierced with three lancet windows representing St Paul 


and St John on each side, with the patron St Stephen 
in the centre. Above these there is a somewhat florid 
Catherine-wheel window representing Christ walking 
on the water. The lower part of the walls is diapered, 
and rather resembles what is popularly known as Tun- 
bridge ware. The choir is a surpliced one, and the 
service is monotoned by the clergy. The incumbent, 
the Hev. J. P. Waldo, took the prayers very musically 
on the occasion of my visit. The choir is very efficient 
indeed; and I noticed that the chief effort seemed 
centred appropriately, as it struck me on the Jubilate 
as a climax. A boy, who sarig a soprano solo in this 
canticle, had a really magnificent voice. The service 
used was that for the 20th of June ; and it was quite 
amusing to notice the despair of the congregation when 
they got lost at the Venite. I believe they thought it 
was a special service for the Bishop. The hymns used 
at this church are from the collection called ' Church 
Hymns/ and I especially noted the beautiful one 
numbered 484, ' Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven/ 
The Bishop read the Ante-Communion Service very 
solemnly indeed. I noticed that he did not read, but 
recited the commandments. His lordship got into a 
difficulty in this way at the JSTicene Creed, as he merged 
into the Apostles' Creed at the end, and had to be set 
right by the choir. There was no Litany, and the 
sermon followed immediately on the J^Ticene Creed, 
without the interpolation of any hymn. This abridged 
the service very judiciously. The Bishop took as his 
text 2 Timothy iii. 15, ' From a child thou hast known 
the Holy Scriptures/ &c., and proceeded to show how 
this applied to young Timothy himself in the case of 
the Jewish Scriptures read to him by his mother and 
grandmother, and afterwards more fully explained by 
St Paul himself. He was simply to continue in this 
faith in the perilous times in which his lot fell. Human 
nature was the same at all times. Our Scriptures were 
the same as those learnt by Timothy at his mother's 
knee, and it was not easy to assess the value of a 
Scriptural education. That would be a subject in keep- 


ing with, tlie claim lie had to make, no less than with, 
the loyal thoughts inspired by the anniversary of the 
Queen's Accession. First, the Bishop said, he would 
speak of the apparent disadvantages and dangers of 
such an education. The mind by early familiarity lost 
sometimes its interest in sacred subjects. All came as 
a mere matter of course, and motives were apt to be 
slackened in consequence, but this fact should only lead 
to more earnest self-examination. Practise the truths 
of the Bible, and so you will keep them vital. And 
the advantages were far greater than the dangers. 
These dangers attended all God's gifts. The early 
acquaintance with the Bible was to take the lowest of 
all grounds a means of mental culture. Education 
should draw out all the faculties, the moral as well as 
the intellectual powers. The Greek epics had been 
imperfect methods in ancient times ; so had the study 
of the classics proved in modern days. To the great 
mass of people the Bible was the means of culture. 
Even apart from its Divine origin, it was most univers- 
ally applicable for drawing out the various faculties of 
man, and that not only in the lower but the higher 
strata of society as well. Nothing so induced the upper 
classes to think and feel right as the Bible. Even 
bounding our view by the present life, he who best 
knew the Holy Scriptures was most ' thoroughly fur- 
nished unto all good works.' But to pass on to holier 
ground. What, the Bishop asked, was this life but an 
education for eternity ? Up to the time of death the 
man had to be always learning, and, besides this inner 
teaching, the Church had her school for baptized souls. 
Besides her daily prayers, her frequent sacraments, and 
the too much neglected method of catechizing, there 
was the ordinance of preaching. The baptized person 
was to c hear sermons/ The value of this method of 
instruction would not be known until the Last Day. 
People sometimes wondered why the results were not 
larger ; why, when sermons were preached from 20,000 
pulpits, people listened so languidly. The fault was 
said to be in the clergy, because one man could not 


combine the gifts of Pearson and Jeremy Taylor with 

those of modern literature and science. He did not 

undervalue such gifts, but he recollected how, in the 

days of Greek science and Jewish learning, God saved 

man by the foolishness of preaching. Surely another 

cause of non-success was the unpreparedness of the 

soil. This must be the case unless the persons had 

from childhood known the Holy Scriptures. Again, 

early acquaintance with the Bible was the best method 

against some of the phases of modern infidelity. Some 

phases, indeed, rested on the minutige of criticism ; but 

most of them appealed to ignorance. The arguments 

fell dead and pointless when confronted with Holy 

Scripture. Many an infidel tract was quietly put aside 

by an artisan who, from a child, had known the Holy 

Scriptures, and so saw the fallacies of infidel arguments. 

It was easy, of course, to controvert the position that 

Holy Scripture made people wise unto salvation. 

Thousands who were baptized and taught in the Church 

schools showed no signs of such wisdom. These were 

in truth results which saddened one, but they were the 

ordinary issue of the struggle of good against free-will 

in a corrupt world. Even when Christ Himself taught, 

disciples were few, and churches only like oases in the 

desert of ungodliness. On the other hand, many did 

show good results, and all this was clear gain. * Texts 

learnt at a mother's knee, or in the Church school, 

became a part of self. Men and women learnt to live 

and die by them. How many did so we could not tell, 

for piety was often content to dwell in the shade. We 

should know at the Judgment Day. Even when the 

good seed seemed to have struck no root, the tillage 

was not always lost. Often the heavenly wisdom was 

only latent, waiting for some sorrow or suffering to 

waken it into life. Once more : early acquaintance with 

Scripture stored the mind with notions ready for all 

emergencies. It was a resource in times of doubt and 

despondency. In temptation it supplied the very weapon 

wielded by Christ when He was tempted. It had a 

soothing power in affliction. And here his lordship 


told, most pertinently and pathetically, an anecdote of 
one he had known, who for two days was deprived of 
the power of speech and motion, and the bystanders 
spoke of her as unconscious ; but the senses were acute 
though the will was impotent. While she lay thus every 
text she had learnt passed through her mind like links 
in a chain. Through these two strange days of seclusion 
they were her only comfort, and she lived to tell the 
secret of the unearthly solace, and to express her grati- 
tude for the early lessons which had supplied it. How 
many felt this, but died without being able to tell us ? 
The familiar words of Scripture blended imperceptibly 
in their case with the choruses of angels. On this the 
Bishop based his claims for a society to which hundreds 
of thousands owed their acquaintance with Scripture. 
It was difficult in these days of School Boards to realize 
the condition of things fifty-five years ago, when the 
National Society came into existence. Many good 
people then doubted whether it was well that the lower 
classes should be educated. But the great work which 
the Society did was to struggle against the exclusion of 
religious education. Other bodies within and without 
the Church had done the same, but the National Society 
was the greatest educational agent of the nineteenth 
century; now, when education was a function of the 
State, the society's work was still important. By Church 
schools being built and aided, the necessity for Board 
Schools was done away with. He counselled managers 
of Church schools not to hand over their schools to the 
Board in a panic, which, two years hence, they would 
see was needless. His lordship concluded by detailing 
the work of training teachers and inspecting schools, 
which, he said, constituted a claim on behalf of this 
Society for every one who held the truth of the text. 




ONE can scarcely imagine a more characteristic sight 
than the interior of Wren's Metropolitan Cathedral 
filled with a week-day afternoon congregation. The 
roar of the great city outside forms the most complete 
contrast to the quietude that pervades the sacred 
building, and we are pretty sure that those who gather 
there have their hearts in the .work they are doing. 
Of course there are a few country cousins who have 
come to see the cathedral, as in duty bound, and who 
adapt themselves to circumstances by waiting until 
the service is over to recommence their pilgrimage 
among the monuments, but they are, for the most part, 
reverent and patient, even if not enthusiastic wor- 
shippers. There seemed a larger sprinkling of them 
than usual when I went one afternoon in early spring 
to hear Lord Arthur Hervey, Bishop of Bath and 
Wells, plead the cause of the British and Foreign Bible 

For some reason or other, known only to the in- 
scrutable mind of a verger, the choir of the cathedral 
and the front rows of the seats under the dome were 
rigidly guarded against occupancy. ' Have you a card, 
sir ? 3 said a grim official to me as I prepared to pass 
to the front. I was fain to confess I had not, and 
down went the silver-gilt mace to oppose my entrance, 
quite unnecessarily, for I retired unresistingly to the 
back seats, and the ' reserved ' ones were, as a fact, 
only partially occupied during the entire proceedings. 

Just before four o'clock the organ sounded forth a 
sweet voluntary, and one of those queer Protestant 
processions that always look so funny dribbled in 


from the vestry to the choir. The officiating clergy 
took their places in the choir stalls, and the service 
was very efficiently performed, the only drawback 
being the lessons which were read from a lectern close 
to the jealously guarded seats, but so as to be quite 
inaudible, except in that advanced position, where 
there was scarcely anybody to listen to them. I do 
not know whether I am wrong, but it seemed to me as 
though the clergyman who read them hardly exerted 
himself as he might have done, for he had a strong 
voice; but I might have suffered from my position. 
The intonation of the prayers, as well as the rendering 
of the anthem and of two metrical hymns which were 
introduced into the service, struck me as a great im- 
provement on what I could recollect of old St Paul's 
experiences. It was a thorough type of the Anglican 
cathedral service, and the preacher, an equally typical 
Anglican bishop, passed to the pulpit under the dome, 
and delivered an excellent sermon in a voice audible to 
the furthest limits of his large congregation on the text 
Luke iii. 2, ' The Word of God/ 

This is a phrase, said the Bishop, very freely scat- 
tered through the pages of the Bible. We find it in 
the Old Testament, and we find it in the New Tes- 
tament. The prophet Isaiah has somewhat to say 
to the people, and he prefaces it by, ' Hear the Word 
of the Lord' (i. 10). Jeremiah tells us again and 
again ' The Word of the Lord came unto me ; ' the 
Word of the Lord came unto Bzekiel; the Word of 
the Lord came unto Hosea; the Word of the Lord 
came unto Jonah; the Word of the Lord came to 
Micah ; it came to Zephaniah, it came to Haggai, it 
came to Zechariah; and it was in the mouth of 
Malachi. Four hundred years and upwards pass 
away, and the Word of God came to John in the 
Wilderness; and yet, a few months, and One stood 
preaching on the shores of the lake of Gennesaret ; 
and we are told that the people pressed upon Him to 
hear the Word of God from His mouth. What is 
this Word of God which thus found its way among 


men through so many centuries ? How came it here ? 
What is its mission and its meaning ? Is it any longer 
heard among us ? Do we need it in these days of 
widespread knowledge and advanced civilization? 
These and a hundred other like inquiries naturally 
crowd upon the human mind when it sets itself to 
think about the Word of God. 

When the idea ' The Word of God ' first presents 
itself to the mind,, its reception, of course, depends 
upon the state of the mind to which it is so presented. 

(1) One state of the human mind I will characterize 
as the independent or self- sufficient state. Such a 
mind looks upon itself as having at its own command 
powers sufficient to cope with all the difficulties, and 
to meet all the demands that it will encounter through 
life. For all matters of conduct it relies upon its own 
virtue, on its own strength of will, on its own wisdom, 
prudence, and sagacity, upon its own ability to refuse 
the evil and to choose the good. For all matters of 
knowledge it relies upon its own intellectual resources. 
It has power to decipher the pages of the Book of 
Nature ; it can penetrate the depths of physical science ; 
it can track its way through the intricate windings of 
metaphysics ; it can acquaint itself with the natural 
history of man ; it can master the science of language j 
it can expatiate in the fair fields of art and letters ; it 
can improve the economy of human society, and can 
tend continually towards perfection in the great busi- 
ness of civil and political life. In a word, it is self- 
sufficient within that circle by which its aims and 
energies are bounded, and scorns to be beholden to 
external help for that which it thinks itself competent 
to supply to itself. To a mind in this independent 
state the Word of God, with its claim for absolute sub- 
mission and obedience, comes as an unwelcome intruder 
and usurper, and such an one is ready to ask, with 
Pharaoh, ' Who is the Lord, that I should obey His 
voice ? 3 

(2) But there is another state of the human mind 
which I will characterize as the dependent or non- 


self-sufficient state. And this dependency arises not 
from any deficiency in mental or moral power, as com- 
pared with the other state of mind which we have just 
been considering, but, on the contrary, from a far 
wider, deeper, and juster range of thought moving in 
a far larger circle of truth. I will indicate what I 
mean in as few words as possible. A mind, such as 
we are now speaking of, feels intuitively that as it is 
not self-existent, it cannot be self-sufficient. As it 
derives its being from God, the self- existing, so it must, 
in the very nature of things, depend upon God. And 
as its thoughts embrace the eternal future, and its own 
powers at best extend only to the brief present, so 
must it needs depend for that future upon One who is 
Eternal, One thai was, and is, and is to come. But it 
notices further that even in secular and present things 
there is constant evidence of the Providence of an 
unseen Will, and the working of an unseen Power : 
that man is not master, even in the narrow range of his 
own dominion; that the wisest schemes fail ; the most 
deep-laid plans are frustrated; the most sober hopes 
are disappointed ; the highest worldly wisdom is turned 
to folly. Therefore independence and self-sufficiency 
are not the proper attributes of man. 

But further still, such a mind as we are now speak- 
ing of deals with its own moral condition as something 
unspeakably more important than the truths of science, 
or the whole range of secular knowledge. To be holy 
as God is Holy : to be really pure in heart ; pure in 
thought ; pure in aim, pure in motive, pure in follow- 
ing out the motives; pure in the midst of impurity, 
unspotted from the world ; to attain all the moral per- 
fection of which man^s nature is capable, and entire 
freedom from the bondage of sin in all its kinds and 
degrees, such one feels to be the great task to which 
he ought daily and hourly to set himself. And he has 
a very keen sense that the first and highest of his 
duties as a man is his duty to God ; a duty not to be 
paid by any mere outward b'odily service ; but to be 
rendered only in perfect love, in the spiritual worship 


of tlie heart, in the entire obedience and consecration 
of the whole inner man, and the conformity of the will 
to the will of God. And he knows that every depart- 
ure, every falling short from this spiritual obedience 
of love, is sin. But when he aims at that purity of 
heart and that moral perfection which he admires and 
desires, when he strives to render to God the service 
of perfect love which he knows is His due, he is con- 
scious at every step of shameful failure and incapacity, 
and inexcusable short-comings. Where then is in- 
dependence aud self-sufficiency ? But that is not all. 
Failure of duty is sin, and conscience winces under a 
sense of sin. Eeason is bewildered under a conscious- 
ness of sin. What is the penalty of sin ? What are 
the relations of a sinful man to the Holy Almighty God ? 
What is the sinner's future ? How can sin be undone 
and taken away ? Will there ever be the opportunity 
or the power of paying the unpaid debts to God ? Can 
there be a recovery of righteousness to those who have 
lost it, or is it gone for ever ? Such questions crowd 
upon the mind, but reason is dumb to answer them. 
It may guess and flounder in hopes and conjectures, it 
cannot satisfy the terrible doubt. Where is there room, 
for independence and self-sufficiency in the mind that 
is busied with such thoughts ? There is none. But 
now if the Word of God comes to such a mind with its 
resolution of every doubt, with its revelation of the 
mind and will of God, with its glorious discovery of 
the riches of God's grace in Jesus Christ, with the 
doctrine of the Cross and the atoning Blood, and the 
all-sufficient sacrifice for sin, and the Resurrection and 
the Judgment, and the Eternal Kingdom j if the Word 
of God comes with its promise of the Holy Spirit, to 
write God's blessed laws in the fleshy tables of the 
heart, and to give power to perform what the Word of 
God commands ; if the Word of God comes with its 
explanation of the mystery of evil, and its disentangle- 
ment of the perplexed and tangled skein which has 
baffled all the reason of mankind in their attempts to 
explain it, then with what joy will that Word of God 


be received, what a welcome will it meet with in the 
secret chambers of the heart ! 

And, my brethren, it is thus that the Word of God 
finds us, and we are dependent npon that Word. Just 
as our earth with all its admirable apparatus, its soil 
teeming with herb and tree, its varieties of animal life 
in man and beast, its infinite resources, its stores and 
heaps of things useful and pleasant, its grand machinery 
of human society, its nations and states, its cities and 
governments, its land and sea, its mountains and its 
mines, its fire and water, yet could not exist an hour 
without the distant sun to shine upon it, and hold it in 
its place by gravitation ; so it is that all the excellences 
of our human nature, rate them, ever so high, must 
utterly fail of accomplishing their end. without the 
mighty aid of the Word of God. And God has given 
us His Word. Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable 

But what do we mean by the Word of Grod ? We 
mean the communication to us of the mind of God. In 
the mind of God there is knowledge, and there is a will, 
and there are purposes, and decrees, and counsels, and 
laws of procedure. And who can guess the infinity of 
these ! They have relations to all time, to all space, 
and to all creatures that are, or have been, or shall be. 
But a portion of them relates to us men. A portion of 
them it is essential to our happiness, and our well- 
being, and our fulfilment of the end of our existence 
that we should know, and so God speaks to us, and 
by His Word reveals these things to us. Exactly as 
the word of man is the medium of communication be- 
tween mind and mind, so is the Word of God the in- 
strument by which God communicates His mind to man 
and if we ask how came the Word of God among us, 
we have only to turn to the pages of Holy Scripture to 
learn. There we read how God spake to man, some- 
times by visions of the night, sometimes by Urini and 
Thummim, and oftener still by His holy prophets, to 
whom the Word of the Lord came. But in all these 
cases, and in all these instruments^ there was the com- 


mimication of the mind of God to man. Last of all, God 
spake to us by His Son, the brightness of His glory, 
and the express image of His person, in whom dwelt 
all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, whose every Word 
was the Word of God, and whose whole life and death . 
and resurrection from the dead was the full revelation 
of the mind of God to man. And what is its mission to 
us ? It is like the mission of the sun to dispel darkness, 
to gladden the face of nature, to diffuse light and heat, 
to stimulate all the latent powers of life and growth, to 
fertilize the earth's bosom, and to make life joyous. 
There are regions of the earth where darkness and 
death prevail through the long winter months of gloom, 
where life cannot be sustained, where the earth yields no 
produce, where the shriek of the wild bird is not heard, 
where ice-bound hardness locks up everything in its 
stern embrace, because the bright warm sun shines not 
upon them. Even so it is the mission of the Word of 
God to come amongst us, and to gladden our hearts with 
the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, to shine upon 
our sin-bound hearts and to awaken spiritual life and 
stimulate spiritual growth, to cause the light of promise 
and sure hope to shine upon our path, to turn human 
society into a fellowship of loving brethren, to make our 
natural powers of mind and all our natural energies and 
affections minister to each other's comfort, instead of 
being employed in each other's hurt. And, brethren, 
let me add, that however much of this blessed mission 
of the Word of God 'has been hindered and frustrated 
by the wickedness and unbelief of man, yet even the 
heathen world is witness, and this great metropolis is 
witness, that its mission is not in vain. There are those, 
blessed be God, and not a few, who, in obedience to the 
Word of God, and under its holy influence, are living, 
not for themselves, but for Christ and their brethren, 
who seek out ignorance, want, and sorrow, to apply the 
remedies to such misfortunes, and whose own souls are 
gladdened by the sunbeams of God's love. The heathen 
world and the dark courts and alleys of our half-heathen 
cities, as well as our country villages, bear witness that 


the Word of God is still heard amongst us, because we 
daily see or hear of some turning from darkness to light., 
in obedience to that Word, putting off the old man., 
which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and 
putting on the new man, which, after God, is created in 
righteousness and true holiness ; and for further proof 
that we require the Word of God now, in spite of all our' 
boasted knowledge and civilization, as much as ever we 
did, we need only turn to the dark pages of our own 
infidel writers, the apostles of annihilation, on the one 
hand, and the superstitions which are the teaching of the 
word of man, on the other. Nothing is more instructive 
as to the paramount value of the Word of God than to 
observe, on the one hand, the utter darkness into which 
the most gifted minds fall when they reject the wisdom 
of the Scriptures, and the utter insufficiency of the 
loftiest infidel teaching for the personal or social wants 
of mankind ; and, on the other, to notice how invariably, 
as soon as ever the Word of God is lowered from its 
supremacy as the sole fountain of religious truth, 
human truth, though professing to be religious, de- 
generates into corruption and error. 

Whether then we consider our own and other lands 
where human learning and civilization are at their 
height, or whether we think of those nations where the 
blight of Heathenism or Mahometan imposture still rests 
upon the nations, we see that there is just the same need 
for the Word of God to be proclaimed aloud, as there 
was in the days of the Hebrew Prophets, or when Jesus 
of Nazareth preached the Word with His own blessed 

How truly wonderful it is that the providence of God 
has provided for the continuance of His Word amono- 
us ages and ages after the cessation of prophecy, and 
the withdrawal of fresh inspired teaching from among 
us I As long as the Church of God was shut up within 
the four walls of thacourts of the Jewish dispensation, 
it sufficed that the vVord of God should come to the 
prophet of the day and be communicated by his mouth 
to the people. Samuel and Elijah and Elisha, and Isaiah 


and Jeremiah and Daniel, delivered their sacred mes- 
sages, and they ran through the land of Israel, and it 
sufficed. And the same favoured land was filled with 
the yet richer tones of the everlasting Gospel when the 
incarnate Son of God dwelt amongst men, and the "Word 
of God distilled like dew from His gracious lips, and 
from the lips of His Apostles. But when the tabernacle 
of the Church was stretched so as to take in all lands 
under its widespread curtains; when God's Word was 
to be made known to three or four hundred different 
nations, speaking different languages, and dwelling in 
remote and opposite quarters of the world, it is obvious 
that some different machinery was required. Well, 
then, during some 4000 years not only did the Spirit 
of God speak from time to time (rarely at first, much 
more frequently later on), but during all that time God j s 
providence took care that such portions of that spoken 
Word as seemed good to Him, should be gathered up 
and carefully laid by in the sacred treasury of the Book, 
for the use of future ages, and generations of believers 
yet unborn. What God spake to Moses, what He spake 
to Samuel, what He spake by the mouth of David and 
all the Prophets, was gathered up into the Book. The 
people to whom the word was spoken, so God ordered 
it, was a writing people ; their sons were Scribes : and 
so God's words were gathered up and written; written 
as with a pen of iron in the eternal rock, not to be blotted 
out for ever. The Prophets died, David saw corruption, 
Israel was carried into captivity, Jerusalem was made a 
heap of ashes ; dynasties were swept away by War and 
Revolution; the Hebrew tongue passed away from 
among the living languages of mankind; but the Word 
of God once spoken, and then engraved in written 
characters, has survived all the crash of empires, has 
lived through all the storms and tempests of time and 
change, and remains in its integrity to this very hour. 
And I can scarcely conceive a more striking effect of 
the special providence of God providing for the wants 
of His Church to the end of time than this formation 
first and then preservation of the volume of the Old 


Testament. Its careful writing in those remote and 
darksome ages ; its translation into the Greek language 
just at the time when Greek was becoming the language 
of the civilized world, and then its perfection ment and 
completion by the addition of the New Testament, with 
its fuller revelations, its glorious interpretations and 
culminating chapters of the Love and Grace of God in. 
Jesus Christ, now fully brought to light, is such a 
standing miracle of Divine prescience as seems to set 
God visibly amongst us, holding out to us His written 
Word for our grateful acceptance. And the result is 
this that whereas the supply of prophets, always very 
limited, has wholly ceased, the volume which contains 
the trusty record of the pure and undefiled Word of 
God can now be multiplied to any extent. In point of 
fact the Bible Society has distributed between seventy 
and eighty million copies of Holy Scripture since its 
foundation, and in upwards of two hundred languages. 
The art of printing has come in as a supplemental act 
of the Providence that fails not. And see how this 
works. Of old the Word of God came to the Prophet 
or the Apostle, and they proclaimed it with their own 
lips as the Spirit gave them utterance. But now, though 
this inspiration has ceased, the living teachers and 
ministers of the Church have their common treasury to 
draw from, and are sure when they speak in accordance 
with Holy Scripture that they are preaching this very 
Word of God. The Scriptures are the Churches well 
from which she ever draws, in all their freshness and 
purity, the living waters of truth and salvation. 

I have thus endeavoured to show you, my brethren, 
the need that we men have of the Word of God, and the 
unspeakable blessing it is to us, and the wonders of that 
gracious Providence which has so marvellously supplied 
us with it. I should like, in conclusion, to say a few 
words about the Bible Society. 

If I have in any degree succeeded in placing before 
your minds the Word of God in its relations to human 
wants, and our own possession of that Word as a signal 
result of God's prescient care for His Church and for 



mankind, and if you feel with me that the possession of 
a great power and opportunity for good is equivalent to 
a Divine call to do that good, I shall not need to press 
upon you the conclusion that the Bible Society has a 
claim upon your support. I see in my mind's eye the 
three hundred nations and tribes of the earth in all their 
various stages of civilization, in all their varieties of 
clime and colour and knowledge and government. I 
seem to hear their discordant accents and manifold 
tongues and dialects, the polished tongues of the East, 
the rude jargon of Laps and Finns, the guttural utter- 
ances of Celts, the soft dialect of the South Seas. As I 
look, there arises in the midst of them a fair figure, 
crowned with charity, girt with knowledge, and clothed 
with Christian faith. A great chest is at her feet, which 
she unlocks and opens, and from which she draws forth 
countless volumes of great price. Without distinction 
of race or creed, of barbarians, Scythians, bond or free, 
she freely distributes them to all the nations and peoples 
around her. And as each opens the book he has re- 
ceived, he finds it is a copy of the 'Word of God 5 
written in his native tongue wherein he was born. 
And as I watch those who receive this precious boon 
whether the process takes years or centuries matters 
not I see a gradual and most blessed change. It is 
like the morning mist dispersing before the sun. The 
knowledge of the truth takes the place of ignorance, 
superstition, and error. The savage warrior glorying in 
bloodshed becomes the tender-hearted brother loving 
his neighbour as himself. Oppression and cruelty yield 
to justice and mercy. Christian civilization springs up 
in the barren wilderness. Human nature, with its 
wonderful gifts and powers, is directed to its true end. 
The Word of God has done its work, and has leavened 
humanity with the leaven of the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Such an image represents, I believe, fairly, the work 
of the Bible Society. Nothing can be more simple than 
its design. Seeing that the Word of Grod in Holy 
Scripture is needful alike for teachers and for taught, 
seeing that it is God's great gift to man, seeing with 


what care God lias preserved it for man's use through 
many centuries, seeing what an injury is done to men 
when the Scriptures are hidden and unknown, and 
what an immense blessing was bestowed upon England 
when at the Reformation the Bible was unchained, and 
given freely to the people. It seeks simply to bring 
the Bible within the reach, not of our own people only, 
but of every nation and language on the face of the 
whole earth. At the bidding of charity it places all the 
resources of learning at the disposition of faith, and 
makes the wonders of modern art subservient to the 
distribution of the Word of God. 

May this metropolis of the wealth and commerce of 
the world not be wanting in her part in so great a work, 
and may this Cathedral church, the centre of the Chris- 
tian life of England, which has witnessed such great 
vicissitudes of truth and error, be among the foremost 
to help it forward ; and may Almighty Grod bless the 
endeavour to honour and diffuse His Word, for our Lord 
Jesus Christ's sake. 


Kensington Gardens, and seeming to stand 
JL amid a very city of palaces, is Christ Church, Lan- 
caster Gate ; and time was when, under the auspices of 
Mr Frederick Archer, now organist of the Alexandra 
Palace, Christ Church had one of the finest choirs 'and 
heartiest services in suburban London. Consequently 
the announcement that Dr Woodford, the Bishop of Ely, 
would preach on behalf of the choir on the First Sunday 
after Trinity had a double attraction for me, as I thought 
I should renew acquaintance with the choir, and hear 
one of the most eloquent prelates on the Bench. The 


hawthorn was only just beginning to fade, and the 
laburnum to lose its early spring- tide loveliness, when I 
passed amid the umbrage of Kensington Gardens, and 
realized to the full the truth of Mr Disraeli's remark, that 
no city in the world has such gardens on its outskirts as 

When I gained the vestry of Christ Church half an 
hour before service-time I am sorry to say I experienced 
one of those bits of, not exactly discourtesy, but brusque- 
rie, that we scarcely expect in the Church of England, 
though we are not surprised to meet with it from the 
representative of some little unmannerly sect. I had 
taken the precaution of sending, the day before, a special 
messenger to the incumbent of Christ Church, the Rev. 
Richard Wood, saying that I was about to write an 
account of his choir, and should be obliged for any in- 
formation he could give me. He sent a verbal message, 
saying he would arrange with the organist. To my sur- 
prise, then, when I went to the vestry, he said, ' I can- 
not take any steps in the matter. My choir is entirely 
altered. We only do a plain service/ He added, partly 
in his words, and still more by his manner, sundry reflec- 
tions anything but complimentary to the Fourth Estate. 
Then he said, ' If you are going to report the Bishop's 
sermon, please sit where he can't see you/ I mentioned 
that I had taken down many bishops' sermons already, 
and received every aid from their lordships; whereupon 
Mr Wood said, with the most charming innocence, 'I 
should think they must find it very disagreeable to have 
their sermons taken down. J know I should.' There 
are, possibly, special reasons why Mr Wood should object 
to having his sermons reported, but these have no sort 
of application to the Bishop of Ely. However, our con- 
versation was interrupted by the arrival of his lordship, 
followed by a footman with his canonicals ; so I retired, 
and a sly old pew-opener, who knew me from having seen 
me officiate at Christ Church, put me well in front ; but 
I cannot say the Bishop of Ely seemed at all discon- 
certed by my occasionally jotting down a note of one of 


the most masterly sermons it was ever my good fortune 
to hear. 

But first for the service, which seemed scarcely to have 
degenerated so much as I had expected. The opening 
voluntary was the ' Preghiera ' from ' Mose in Egitto/ 
and during its performance a large surplieed choir took 
their places. I never could discover whether the prayers 
afc Christ Church were read or monotoned. The curate, 
who has been there from time immemorial, has a musical 
voice, and reads mostly on a single note, varying pro- 
ceedings by occasionally dropping about a third when 
you least expect it. As Tallis's responses were sung, 
and the choral portion of the services recited on Gr, the 
effect of this was hybrid and grotesque in the extreme, 
and was the more unfortunate as the curate has a magni- 
ficent reading voice. His delivery of the narrative of 
crossing the Jordan, and of the closing in of Christ's 
Life, which formed respectively the First and Second 
Lessons, was very eloquent indeed. The Yenite was 
sung to a single, the Psalms for the 30th day to ap- 
propriate double Anglican chants. The boys recited too 
fast to be quite distinct in their articulation ; but the 
singing was very much above par, and I still failed to 
notice the degeneracy the incumbent asserted. The Te 
Deum was in like manner set to three Anglican chants, 
which modulated very happily at the different portions 
of the Canticle. I could scarcely help smiling to notice 
the different attitudes of the three officiating clergymen 
during the Creed. The curate and choir turned to the 
east ; the Bishop, who was at the north side of the Com- 
munion Table stood about three-quarters round ; but the 
incumbent faced due north, as if he had been bound for 
the Arctic regions. During the Lessons I noticed that 
he seemed to tuck the whole of his surplice behind him, 
and left his legs exposed to view as he lolled in his cozy 
arm-chair. There was no Anthem or Litany, and the 
prayers after the Third Collect were considerably 
abridged, so that the service was short. The congrega- 
tion, I ought to add, was not only what would be termed 


large and fashionable, but what I call a solid one, con- 
sisting largely of substantial middle-aged men with their 
wives and families. At the end of morning prayer the 
choir sang the beautiful hymn, No. 164, from the 
Ancient and Modern Collection, ' We love the place, 
God/ and the last verse but one seems now, as I write 
after the event, as though it might have formed the text 
of the, sermon, or been arranged to lead up to it 

' We love to sing below, 

For mercies freely given ; 
But 0, we long to know 
The triumph-song of Heaven ! ' 

The Bishop read the Ante-Communion Service in a 
fine manly voice, which seemed, if one may so say, 
younger than I should have expected, for his Lordship 
walks with a slight scholarly stoop, and this gives more 
or less the semblance of age. The Kyrie which followed 
each Commandment was an exceedingly sweet one; but, 
cut off as I was by a veto at head- quarters from all asso- 
ciation with the organist, I know neither who the com- 
poser is, nor who manipulates the instrument at Christ 
Church. To me the reading of the Commandments is 
one of the most crucial tests of a clergyman's powers. 
Too often they are hurried over; but the Bishop's 
slightest intonation was always well placed, as, for 
instance, in the second, where he read, ' Thou shalt not 
bow down to them, nor worship them ; for I the Lord thy 
God/ &c. One of the late Mr Bellew's finest specimens 
of elocution used to be the Fifth Commandment. 

The Kyrie after the last Commandment, when the 
words so often fail to suit the melody, was, in this case, 
the most effective of all ; the tenor part containing some 
beautiful passages, and the splendid sostenuto of the 
boys' voices at the end showing that they still had 
some good training, even in these days of their Decline 
and Fall. 

Mr Wood's portion of the morning service was limited 
to the Epistle, so there was no danger of one's ' report- 
ing ' him, except so far as to mention that he gave it out 
as ' the fourth chapter of the First Epistle General by 


St John/ &c. Then, after the Nicene Creed, was sung 
Hymn 303 ; and once more I was struck by its mar- 
vellous adaptation, to the impending sermon, as in the 

' With. His seraph train before Him, 

With. His Holy Church below, 
Thus unite we to adore Him, 
Bid we thus our anthem flow.' 

After reading a collect, Bishop Woodford gave out 
his text, Revelation xiv. 3, ' And they sung a new song 
before the throne/ There was, he said, a double danger 
attaching to the mystical portions of the Bible; first, 
that we should make too much of separate sentences or 
words j secondly, lest we should pass over, as though 
they were mere ornaments, passages pregnant with 

The words of the text, he said, occur in a chapter, in 
explaining which we have especial need to beware of 
this twofold peril. It records one of the most sublime 
of all the visions vouchsafed to St John. He had just 
before had presented to him in his trance the spectacle 
of some dread forms of evil, usurping the place of God in 
the world ; and then the scene changes, and instead of the 
monstrous shape called a wild beast coming up out of 
the sea, the image of unrest, appears the form of a 
Lamb, the emblem of innocence, standing on Mount 
Sion, the type of stability and duration, surrounded with 
a vast company, having on them the stamp, not of the 
principle of evil, but of the Author of all righteousness. 
4 And I looked, and lo ! a Lamb stood on Mount Sion, 
and. with Him an hundred and forty and four thousand, 
having His Father's name in their forehead/ We can- 
not interpret the number here denned further than by 
saying that it involves two grand ideas the first of 
vastness, the second of completeness. ' And I heard/ 
proceeds the Apostle, ' a voice from heaven as the voice 
of many waters, and as the voice of a great thunder ; 
and I heard the voice of harpers harping with their 
harps/ And then follows that part of the description 
upon which we now desire to fix your thoughts : ' And 


they sung, as it were, a new song before the throne.' The 
phrase itself occurs more than once in the Psalter. Thus, 
' Sing unto the Lord a new song ' is the commencement 
of the 96th and 98th Psalms. And Isaiah says, 'He 
hath put a new song in my mouth/ But the expression 
appears to have a more special significance in this chap- 
ter of Revelation, for it is emphasized by what follows : 
' And no man could learn that song but the hundred 
and forty and four thousand which were redeemed from 
the earth.' What then, we ask, is this new song, to be 
learnt only by those of human lineage, which is heard 
in heaven, but only from the lips of those who have 
been translated thither from this under world ? 

This is our subject to-day. 

I. We begin by noticing that there is a slight flaw in 
our English version that somewhat mars the sense of 
the passage, ' And no man could learn that song/ It 
should be ' And no one' could learn that song. The 
distinction drawn is between the human race and the 
residue of the creation of God. The new song is the 
song of the children of Adam alone. 

Now let us pause for awhile on this picture. Our 
own instincts tell us that other worlds and other beings 
are comprehended within the universe of God. JNo one 
would imagine that the solicitudes of Deity are con- 
centrated upon man alone. We see with the naked eye 
innumerable stars and planets around us. Science has 
told us something of their dimensions, their fabric, their 

It is almost impossible for us to believe that all are 
but desolate wildernesses, that man is the onlv rational 

"* V 

creature of the Lord God. And what the promptings 
of reason anticipate revelation distinctly affirms. It 
represents the human race as one amongst many spiritual 
creations. It sets forth the heaven above and the hell 
beneath as peopled with intelligence. All those words 
angels, archangels, cherubim, seraphim convey to 
us, and we must believe are meant to convey to us, the 
idea of many families of reasoning, conscious beings, 
various in gifts and powers. 


And hence follows another thought. Of all these 
creatures of Grod there must be a history a history of 
their Maker's providence towards them. They have 
their own relations towards Him diverse as their natures 
are diverse. The Bible does not enter upon their 
histories, except so far as we are concerned therein, but 
it does sufficiently lift the veil to show that there is 'a 
moral history of other creatures besides man. Thus 
we read of the Fall of Satan and his Angels, of a 
temptation presenting itself to the Princes of Light 
of their apostasy from God and God's visitation upon 
them. We are told of this because it is a fact essential 
to the right understanding of the moral history of men, 
and it indicates the reality of a history of God's judg- 
ments and mercies with reference to other departments 
of the universe, although we know it not. 

Every world then has its story. Every order of 
angels has its annals its tale. We may not doubt of 
interventions of Divine power and goodness, each ex- 
actly adapted to its capacities and needs. And amongst 
these various chronicles of the government of Grod over 
the several provinces of His empire, mankind have 
their own special history to relate. Do you ask what 
is the peculiar manifestation of Grod to man ? The 
reply must be, ' The Incarnation of Jesus Christ/ The 
difference of human history from that of principalities 
and powers is the fact that the Second Person in the 
Grodhead was made man. Here is the full force of St 
Paul's words, ' He took not on Him the nature of 
Angels/ How Gfod has revealed Himself to others 
what exhibitions of love and of power He has vouch- 
safed to them, we know not ; what mysteries of grace 
they may weave into their anthems we cannot tell, any 
more than we can image their own nature and endow- 
ments. The burden of the New Song which can be 
sung by the Redeemed from the earth alone is the Song 
of Redemption. To elucidate this truth aright, you 
must observe how all history twines itself around the 
Birth and the Death of the Lord. How, while the first 
man and the first woman are yet alone upon this globe, 


the Promised Seed is announced as the object of hope 
how all the changes of the world make as it were unto 
Christ ; how, since Christ came, all that has happened 
has been more or less an unfolding of the consequences 
of His Life and Resurrection, so that the Son of God 
is the very centre round which the entire machinery of 
human action revolves the hinge upon which earth's 
whole story turns. 

You must notice again how all our ideas of sin, of 
atonement, of justice, flow out of the doctrine that He 
lived and died to reconcile man to Grod to restore 
what was broken to purify what was defiled. Kay, 
more than this. The constitution of the Christian 
Church, as well as of other religious systems which 
involve a standing ministry, the setting apart of a 
certain class to minister to their brethren, what is this 
but the projection into Time of that mystery of Eternity 
whereby the Second Person in the Trinity became 
from the beginning the Patron of the human race 
the Mediator between God and man ? 

The sacramental system in which earthly elements 
are made the veil and the channel of unearthly grace, 
what is this but the shadow of that secret of the Lord 
God hidden in the Flesh ? Thus the history of Adam 
is the volume in which it is written how -the Universal 
Father dealt with a race, partly material, partly imma- 
terial, which had fallen through the temptation of an- 
other, just as the story of Satan, little as we can read 
it, is the record of His providence towards a spirit who 
was his own tempter. And this is the representation of 
St John in the text. He sets forth the Throne of God 
girt about by myriads of sentient beings, every different 
order uplifting its own strain of praise, having its own 
confession to make of the Almighty's wisdom and good- 
ness towards them. And now into the boundless ocean 
of thanksgiving the human race casts its own tribute of 
praise. Into the great assembly man is brought. What 
can he add to the mighty anthem ? What can he, a 
creature lower than the angels, do to swell the general 
diapason ? It may be perhaps that what man has to 


tell is the most marvellous tale of all. He mingles liis 
worship with the worship of angels but his Hymn is 
not their Hymn ; he has to speak of innocence lost and 
God's favour forfeited, of Grod taking to Himself a 
human body and a human soul, living the life, dying 
the death, of His offending creatures. He has to tell 
of the nobleness of self- sacrifice, of the glory of suffer- 
ing for the sake of others, of dying in order to live, of 
humiliations, toil, and sorrow proved to be greater than 
majesty and rest and joy. Yerily is it a New Song un- 
dreamt of before the contribution of the Redeemed to 
the worship of the height. 

II. But observe, secondly, that whilst there is one 
common Psalm sung as it were with one consent by the 
children of Adam, because of that unity of the human 
family which makes them all partakers of the same grace, 
so that one system of Divine Providence overshadows all 
one salvation embraceth all ; yet, as in a great anthem, 
every singer contributes a special modulation according 
to the quality of voice which God has given him, so does 
every member of Christ's Church, every servant of the 
Lord Jesus, cast into the general treasury of heaven 
something which he himself and he only can bring. 

Let me mention two truths which lead to this : 1st. 
Every soul is a distinct and independent creation of 
Almighty God. This follows almost necessarily from the 
diversity of character amongst us. Whenever in a work 
there is unbroken uniformity you trace the presence of a 
general law, or general mechanical action. When you 
see infinite variety you recognize the presence of a .per- 
sonal will in what is produced. So, therefore, because 
no two men born into the world are precisely alike in 
temper and capacity, therefore must we consider every 
one to be the distinct work of a Personal Creator. 
' Each man/ it has been said, ' is the embodying of a 
distinct idea of the mind of God. Each one is ordained 
to accomplish some one distinct purpose of God. God 
left unnumbered multitudes of creatures whose existence 
was possible. He left them to remain in their nothing- 
ness. They might have served him far better than those 


who are teeming around us. But there was something 
which determined God to form the souls which He has 
formed, and none other/ This is that wonderful gift 
of individuality by which every soul is in itself a separate 
world, having something in common with others, but 
much also in its primal elements unlike any other. God's 
gift to itself alone. 

2nd. Observe next that every age of the Church and 
the world varies. It needs but a cursory glance back 
to perceive how the probation of the Christian body has 
changed. Now it is a season of persecution. Now it is 
a time of repose. Now it is the luxury of a soft and in- 
dulgent age. Now it is the roughness of a half-civilized 
period. Now it is the debasing influence of superstition. 
Now the vanity of increased knowledge, which con- 
stitutes the furnace of trial. 

Thus every separate generation has its own part to 
play in accomplishing the purpose of God in creating 
man upon the earth. And more even than this. Each 
soul moves in a separate orbit of its own; it has its 
own trials, temptations ; its own circle of friends and 
connections, upon whom it acts. And so we believe God 
expects from each a distinct, definite task. There is an 
outline of Christian goodness which each individual soul 
has to fill up, the perfecting of which is its portion of 
labour in the vineyard of the Great King. 

And here is a further meaning of the text, 'a new song :' 
Thus is it that the redeemed from among men have one 
common revelation of God, one great unveiling of Deity, 
to declare which, as far as we are told, belongs exclu- 
sively to them. Thus also is it that because every soul 
is a separate creation, has lived in a separate epoch, 
moved in- a separate orbit, therefore every soul has some- 
thing to tell of Almighty God's providence which it 
alone has experienced, how it has in its individual war- 
fare been succoured, warned, pleaded with, its own evil 
eradicated, its own natural graces fostered ; how that 
separate soul has through the fourscore years of its 
.earthly struggles stood to God and God to it, these things 


make wholly and ever new the song of the redeemed 
from among men. 

Incidentally here the Bishop pleaded the case of this 
particular choir. It was ninety-five pounds in debt. 
One fails to see how it could run up such a score and still 
have, as the incumbent said, no results to show for it. 
Had I not received the information from such an excel-' 
lent source, I should have thought the choir rather in a 
nourishing state than otherwise. 

Turning round to the choir, the Bishop delivered to 
them an excellent exhortation to see that their week-day 
harmonized with their Sunday avocations. Of course 
every little boy who could hide his diminished head 
sniggled at the idea of being talked to from the pulpit, 
but the address was very impressive. 

Such, too, was the conclusion of this most exceptional 
sermon. Addressing once more the general congrega- 
tion, and recurring to individual duties, the Bishop 
urged these strongly. There was too much disposition 
with us all to try to lose ourselves in the crowd, but one 
day we must stand isolated, as though there were only 
Grod and ourselves in the universe. We were alone at 
birth alone at death. There could be no companions 
then. Let it be our one great object to note what 
separate melodies our own lives were elaborating for the 
harmonies of heaven. 

If special sermons really have any effect on collections, 
Bishop Woodford's ought to have helped the moribund 
choir to die decently. There were no symptoms of de- 
cadence in the nameless organist's rendering of f The 
Heavens are telling the glory of God/ as we went out 
of church, and I was again struck by the continuous 
vein of thought that seemed to run through the morn- 
.ing's service and sermon at Christ Church. 



T was appropriately said the other day that the present 
Bench of Bishops, even if we conceded the position 
that it contained no bright and shining lights in the way 
of exceptional prelates fit to compare with the great 
names of antiquity, was yet a good working Bench, and 
comprised representative men in an unusually large 
number of different departments. This is true ; and a 
little discrimination will enable the student of theology 
in the concrete to hear, within the compass of a London 
season, each of these right reverend fathers on his own 
special subject. Let satirists say what they will of the 
prevalence of shovel hats at the Athenaeum during the 
week, the Bishops work hard on Sundays, and the Lon- 
don charities reap the reward of their labours. 

On a certain Sunday the Bishop of Chichester was 
announced to preach at St Peter's, Onslow Gardens, 
Brompton, of which exceedingly fashionable church the 
Hon. and Hev, F. C. Byng is incumbent. There is 
scarcely a handsomer building on the outskirts of Lon- 
don. The stone reredos must be an eyesore and a 
temptation to modern iconoclasts ; but though this and 
all the arrangements of the church are exceedingly 
beautiful, there is nothing that even the most determined 
faultfinder could stigmatize as ' High/ I feared at first 
that I could scarcely get a seat at all. The verger in 
the centre of the nave resented my intrusion there as 
though I had contemplated walking into the pulpit 
itself, but I found a haven in a servants' .gallery in a 
transept, the only disadvantage about which was that I 
could not see the east end of the church, but I was 
capitally placed for the pulpit. 


The service called for no special remark, but was ex- 
ceedingly good of its kind. The choir was a surpliced 
one, and the members wore tight purple cassocks under 
their surplices, the latter having, in some cases, a small 
red cross at the neck, as at the Savoy Church. The 
service was read by Mr Byng, the Bishop occupying the 
opposite stall during the prayers. He managed very 
dexterously to monotone in a convenient note for the 
choir, yet still to emphasize his words so as quite to 
do away with the occasional irksomeness of the single 
tone, especially in addressing the congregation. The 
chants were double Anglican, and the hymnal used was 
the S. P. C. K. collection, which I find at an increasingly 
large number of London churches. A feature, too, at 
{3t Peter's, which is gaining ground, is the recitation of 
the General Thanksgiving by all the congregation. 
Why, it occurred to me, should the people remain silent 
in the special clause when a person returns thanks ? 
The congregational element seems doubly significant 

. The Bishop took the north side of the Communion 
Table. I could not, of course, see him from the servants' 
gallery, but his clear thin voice was very audible. He 
passed to the pulpit immediately after the Nicene Creed, 
and I could not but notice his lordship's smooth, sharply- 
cut face as he posed himself with folded arms and recited 
not read a collect. His appeal was for the St Agnes 
Orphanage for Children who are deprived of one or both 
parents, and are to be trained as domestic servants, and 
the text selected was the very appropriate one from 
Acts x. 38, ' He went about doing good/ This, said the 
Bishop, is the touching and simple testimony which St 
Peter bore to the earthly life of a Master whom he loved. 
Jesus of Nazareth went about doing good, for He was 
very man, and felt as man for men. Again and again 
the Grospels speak of His compassion, His tender sym- 
pathy with human wants and weaknesses, with suffering' 
of body and mind, with the sick and sorrowful, an d* even 
with sinners. And the word which is used by the 
Evangelist is very significant. It shows how His human 


frame, His bodily nature, shared in these emotions of 
pity, for He took not on Him the nature of angels, but 
took on Him the seed of Abraham. The false refine- 
ment of our day would have disguised this great truth, 
which the more pious simplicity of earlier translators 
did not fear to set forth. 

It is surely of infinite moment that our view of the 
Lord Jesus Christ should be real and true. Systems of 
theology and controversial arguments tend to present to 
us the saving merits and work of Christ in a dry and 
abstract way, and to obscure the clear vision of the Man 
Christ Jesus. Yet this is life eternal, to know God, and 
Jesus Christ whom He hath sent ; and how can we know 
Him but by the records that are left us of His daily life, 
His deeds, His words, His character shown in the Bible ? 
And are not the four Gospels a treasure above all other 
treasures for this reason, that in them Jesus Christ is 
set forth, is manifested, as nowhere else in Holy Scrip- 
ture ? He moves about a brother among brethren, 
the loving Jesus, a help, a comfort, and blessing. Per- 
haps the preciousness of this testimony of faithful eye- 
witnesses and disciples to Him at whose feet they sat, 
whom they followed, that Word of Life whom they saw 
with their eyes, whom they looked upon, whom their 
hands handled, is too little regarded. If Jesus Christ 
is to be the example of all who name His name', -if we 
are to walk in His steps, then surely a reverent study of 
the Gospels is an absolute necessity. How otherwise 
can we hear the greatest of all teachers ? How can we 
be conformed to Him ? If we say such a conformity 
must be bestowed on us by the Spirit of God, and such 
knowledge must be His gracious gift, let this be freely 
allowed ; but is it not the Spirit of God that moved holy 
Evangelists to commit to writing these memorials of our 
Lord's life ? Is it not through His outward word, His 
letter, that He teaches the hearts of those that believe ? 
None but fanatics -expect enlightenment, except by the 
mearis of grace the Lord has given them ; or guidance 
and comfort, but through diligent use of His written 
word. And I repeat, no portion of that Word is more 


profitable to salvation than that which brings before us 
as in a picture the Lord Jesus ( how He went about 
doing good.' 

One does not care to be hypercritical; but there was 
something very striking in the position when his lord- 
ship,, who read from MS., took his sermon-case in his 
hands, and, again folding his arm s, gazed at that . vast 
congregation, still continuing his discourse. For those 
who do not care about extempore effusions,, this free use 
of a carefully written discourse is the very ideal of pulpit 
oratory. Certainly the Bishop of Chichester did not 
cling (as Sydney Smith says) to his velvet cushion, even 
if Mr Byng had been unaesthetic enough to admit such 
an appendage into his beautiful church. 

If we should say, continued the Bishop, that the 
religion of Christ, so far as our duty towards our neigh- 
bour is concerned, is a religion of compassion, we should 
not err. And all who desire, like their Master, to do 
good to their brethren can never lack opportunity. 
Bather the difficulty is the other way a real difficulty 
even for those who do cherish in their hearts the spirit 
of charity. Go where you will the world is full of objects 
of pity full of pain, full of poverty, both too often the 
immediate consequence of sin, full of real bitter suffer- 
ing. Nowhere perhaps more than in this mighty city 
do the extremes of wealth and poverty meet together. 
There is abject crying want almost in the same street 
with the most pompous abundance and most lavish 

Some from very perplexity not knowing how to choose 
among the innumerable schemes of charity day by day 
presented to them ; some from selfishness refusing to be 
troubled even with the hearing, far more the sight of 
distress ; some from the worldliness and frivolity too 
apt to wait upon rank and riches ; turn away their eyes 
from the sad realities of suffering, which it is their duty, 
and ought to be their true happiness, to relieve. 

For this is the object of compassion, and Christian 
men and women must own that is the compassion Christ 
Himself in His Grospels teaches. Compassion seeks to 



relieve misery. It is not careful to inquire how that 
misery is caused, for we are not set as judges of our 
brethren, and G-od's dealings in these matters are often 
far beyond our ken. It does not say with the Pharisee, 
' Who did sin, this man or his parents, that he was born 
blind ? ' but it accepts the fact of destitution, it recog- 
nizes the claim of affliction, it does what it can for love 
of Him to whom we owe all, and from whom we hope 
for all, whom we love because He first loved us. 

No doubt charity should discriminate, and take 
pains to discriminate, for no reckless throwing about 
of money deserves the name of cha,rity. And therefore 
when you cannot yourselves visit the sick and needy, 
then you must trust to the report of such as merit your 
confidence. The highest charity unquestionably is that 
which involves personal knowledge, personal labour, 
personal sacrifice. It is the especial glory of our own 
church and age that men and women delicately nurtured 
make it their work to penetrate the abodes of poverty, 
often of sin. These are indeed ministers of Christ, and 
they bring Him and all His blessings into homes 
whence He has been too long banished. The parochial 
minister hails such fellow -workers as providentially 
sent to supply his lack of service. Others with equal 
zeal and self-sacrifice are the voluntary nurses in our 
great hospitals, or devote themselves to the still more 
trying work in penitentiaries. 

God be thanked, the members of our communion 
are not barren nor unfruitful in their offices of com- 
passion. And let me say that those who are old 
among us can almost remember the very beginning of. 
this active spirit of systematic charity. We have seen 
its gradual growth, amid all discouragements. A great- 
cause of hope and comfort is, that more and more 
Christians do go about doing good, and making sacri- 
fices, carrying often their lives in their hands; venturing 
for Christ's sake where mere hirelings would fear to go.: 
There is no denying that religion is a real power where 
it shows such fruits. The faith which thus benefits 


our fellow-men is more tlian a name, and that even the 
enemies of Clrrist must confess. 

It has often been urged, and with great truth, that 
until the faith of Christ had leavened the hearts of men, 
hospitals were unknown. There was, in the best days 
of Greece and' Rome, no small measure of medical 
science. Even now our professors of medicine do not 
disdain to study the old masters, who have recorded 
their observations and experience with surprising 
minuteness and accuracy. But there were no physi- 
cians or surgeons who devoted their skill and their 
time to the care of the poor, without fee or reward. 
There were no hospitals, such as we now see in our 
great metropolis, where the poorest may be tended 
with all the appliances that the richest can command. 
There was no such active compassion amongst the most 
civilized and refined of the heathen. St Jerome has 

recorded the first instance of the erection of a hospital. 
It happened in his own time, in the fourth century. A 
Christian lady, Fabiola, of very ancient descent, for she 
bore a name illustrious in the annals of the Roman 
Republic, and of large property, devoted her whole 
means to works of charity. Foremost amongst them 
was the house which she built to receive the sick of all 
diseases in the city of Rome, then the capital of the 
world. Nor was she content with founding this house 
of mercy, but Jerome describes how she herself endured 
to dress the most fearful wounds, to give with her own 
hands food and medicine, to watch by the beds of the 
sick and dying, and minister to their comfort. 

It was a widow woman who set this example, which 
has so greatly tended to mitigate human suffering. 
And when we are reproached with the shortcomings of 
Christianity, and when we are told that the old idol- 
atrous faith did as much for mankind as the faith of 
Christ has done (and such mutterings of unbelief are 
not unheard in our days), we may point to these very 
refuges for afflictions of all kinds which flourish in all 
our land ; and we may ask whence they spring, if not 
from the faith in Him who went about doing good. 


Now, my brethren, lie proceeded, compassion such as 
the Gospel of Christ teaches turns naturally to the 
weakest members of Christ's Body. Their very help- 
lessness is their title to oar sympathy. Fatherless and 
motherless children, like the widow, are the special 
objects of God's care. And He who is the Father of 
the fatherless (for so it has pleased Him to be called) 
commends them to our protection. He witnesses 
against those who shall oppress them, he declares that 
it is true religion, that it is a part of His service, to 
visit them in their affliction. For it is an affliction that 
a, child should be deprived of its father, and even still 
more of a mother's care. When our Blessed Lord was 
comforting His disciples, dismayed at His approaching 
departure, He said to them, 'I will not leave you 
orphans/ as though that were of all fates the hardest. 
Our heart yearns at the sight of orphans, even in our 
own rank, but think, my brethren, of the orphans of 
the poor ! If they are bereft of both parents they must 
be left to the care of some relation little able to provide 
for them, or the tender mercies of the parish work- 
house. If one parent survives, and that a widow, 
think of them exposed to want ; if a father, to neglect, 
for he must toil to earn bread for his children. In 
either case, unequally matched is the struggle for life 
that struggle in which the weak and the friendless are 
left behind. It never can be said that it is unnecessary 
to help the orphans. They, have but too good a claim 
to all the assistance that charity can offer. And it is 
for an orphanage, a refuge, a home for such destitute 
children that I this day entreat your help. This 
orphanage took its rise from one of those circumstances 
which perhaps thoughtlessly we call accidents. A lady, 
now its head, while she was visiting, as was her custom, 
a district in London, found a poor little child, an 
orphan, half naked, half starved, totally neglected. 
Like the good Samaritan she took her to her own 
home, fed, clothed, taught, and sheltered her. And 
then by degrees she gathered others together a little 


family of orphans to whom she might be a second 

It is no part of the plan that these children shall be 
brought up in idleness. They are trained under super- 
intendence to work, so that hereafter as household serv- 
ants they shall earn an honest and sufficient livelihood. 
I believe the want of house servants, well trained, well 
principled, brought up in habits of diligence, order, and 
obedience, is generally experienced. Here these orphans 
are, as all who have seen them can testify, most happy 
in this School of Industry they come to it gladly, they 
leave it with sorrow. Now it is no small thing to rescue 
even a few from the trials that beset the orphans of the 
poor ; perhaps from destitution, perhaps from wretched 
and sinful homes. It is a greater thing still to wean 
them from evil habits, restrain violent temper; save 
them from present temptations, and fit them by good 
instruction and good example to go forth not altogether 
unprepared into a dangerous world. Such blessings it is 
impossible to overrate, and they who see the necessity of 
them may well be called benefactors in making them 
objects of their charity. But what would you say if the 
managers of this orphanage by mere want of money had 
to close their doors against those orphans who fain would 
enter in, or, worse still, were compelled to send away 
one-half of the poor helpless children whose education 
had been hopefully begun ; if, in spite of their entreaties 
and sobs and tears, these children should be returned to 
that state of want and neglect and ignorance and un- 
godliness from which they had been awhile delivered ? 
Yet this must be done unless the Committee of this 
orphanage obtain generous and immediate help from 
Christian people. This is not the place nor the time to 
enter into details which can be far better furnished from 
other sources. I can only repeat the sad necessity there 
is for -all to assist in maintaining this refuge from suffer- 
ing and sorrow. Such a calamity as that of which I have 
spoken must be averted. The sum that is needed is 
small indeed compared with the work to be accom- 


My^brethren, Ms lordship concluded, I suppose that 
all of you to whom tlie Lord has given children count 
them as yonr dearest heritage, as His most precious 
gift. Day and night you. watch over their health and 
their growth. How anxiously you guard their bodies 
from disease, their souls from evil ! And all of you, 
surely, are lovers of orphans. All who are not spoiled 
by worldliness and vanity must delight in the freshness 
and simplicity and the innocence of children. We feel 
that without them this would be a weary world ! And 
if it please God to visit them with suffering, how parents 
suffer with them ! and not parents alone, for it is to all 
one of the sorest trials to witness the sufferings of 
children. We are almost tempted to say, ' What has 
caused the Father of Mercies so to afflict them ? ' I 
would only ask that some share of the tenderness your 
own children receive should be given to these poor young 
creatures, who have no mother to nurse them, no father 
to labour for them, perhaps no home to shelter them. 
They are very dear to Christ our Saviour, for they are 
even as those little ones He took up in His arms and 
blessed. If any work of charity can be pleasing to Him 
it must be this. If any may hope for a blessing and in- 
crease from Him it is this, and such as this. If any Be 
full of hopeful promise, it is the Christian training of 
such orphans. I commend it to your love and your com- 
passion for Christ's sake, and in His prevailing name I 
plead for those who cannot plead for themselves. 
B/emember His own most true word, l Inasmuch as ye 
have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
ye have done it unto Me.' 




T was to Oriental scenes that my pursuit of pulpit 
celebrities led me one Sunday morning, when the 
announcement that the Bishop of Manchester would 
preach at the parish church of St George-in-the-East at- 
tracted me to the terra incognita of the Commercial Road. 
The route to this, which may be regarded as the focus of 
Broad Churchism at the East-end, was by Moorgate 
Street Station and thence through London Wall, past 
the Greek Church, across Bishopsgate Street, and down 
Houndsditchinto the Whitechapel and Commercial Roads. 
I could not help noticing the pretty patches of greenery 
around many of these East-end churches. The garden 
of Bishopsgate Church, with its fountain playing, would 
be quite romantic, were it not for an announcement of 
Reid/s Stout at the end ; and Aldgate is rapidly follow- 
ing in its steps, where the bells were ringing a merry 
peal as I passed; but St George's is just about to outvie 
them all. It has nearly an acre of ground around it, and 
by significantly throwing down a middle wall of partition 
between the Churchyard and a neighbouring Wesleyaii 
Chapel, it is going to develope a regular Pere-la-Chaise. 
The little Raine charity- girls, with their pretty blue 
habits and white caps, like those of Normandy peasants, 
were walking among the trees in quite a picturesque 
fashion on the occasion of my visit. 

Soon after eleven the bells, which had been ringing a 
inerry peal responsive to Aldgate, ceased, and a numer- 
ous choir of men and boys without surplices entered from 
the west end of the climrch and took their places in pews 
apportioned to them at the eastern extremity. Two 


curates followed, then tlie re.ctor, the Rev. Harry Jones,, 
late of St Luke's, Berwick Street, and lastly, Dr Fraser, 
Bishop of Manchester. All the clergy of the church 
were bearded or nioustached ; even the verger wore a 
moustache. The opening portion of the service was read 
by the rector in a fine sonorous voice ; then one of the 
curates took it up in monotone at the first Lord's Prayer, 
and continued it in the same way until the third collect, 
4 the choir responding with inflections. Both curate and 
choir did their work well. 

The Bishop occupied a seat on the south side of the 
altar, and took no part in the Ante- Communion service, 
which was read by the rector, with one of the curates as 
Epistoler. Banns were published after the Nicene Creed, 
when the Bishop passed to the pulpit. The text was 
taken from the Epistle for the day, 1 John iii. 16 19 : 
' Hereby perceive we the love of God, because He laid 
down His life for us : and we ought to lay down our 
lives for the brethren. But whoso hath this world's 
goods, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up 
his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the 
love of God in him ? My little children, let us not 
love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth. 

And herebv we know that we are of the truth, and shall 

" - . * 

assure our hearts before Him/ 

In the Epistle from which the text is taken, the Bishop 
said, many reasons are given for the manifestation of the 
Son of God ; such as that sins might be put away, or to 
destroy as Wickliffe said, to undo the devil; or again, 
that we might be the sons of Grod and heirs of eternal 
life ; or again, as in the text, that we might know the 
essential character of the highest form of love. A man 
has passed from the 'death of selfishness into the life 
whose source is in Chris b the life that is hid with Christ 
in God the love of the brethren. 

Here are no theories of the atonement, no philoso- 
phical or theological explanation offered of the great 
transaction on Calvary. It is appealed to as a fact. Its 
primary, simplest lessons are stated and applied. It in 
the words of the writer, who speaks to us out of the 


depths of his experience and consciousness proclaims 
to us with a singular emphasis one or two great things 
we ought to know that we are the sons of a Father who 
loves us, that there is a higher destiny yet in store for 
us, that of this we have an earnest in that life eternal of 
which even now we have the foretaste, and that the 
truest token of that life is the exhibition of love in some 
practical self-sacrificing form towards mankind. It was 
in older, I do not wish to say better days, called a gospel. ; 
to-day it is derided as a superstition, not only puerile 
but mischievous and degrading. A living writer, whose 
intellectual power I would be the last to question, thus 
speaks of it to two authors who have just put forth an 
essay on the unseen universe, in which an attempt, the 
success of which it is for others to estimate, is made to 
show that eyen the theological principles of Christianity 
and its array of miracles are not out of harmony with the 
leading philosophical hypotheses the principles of con- 
tinuity, of conservation of energy, and of the origin of 
life, on which the science of to-day bases its claims. 
' These sickly dreams of hysterical women and half- 
starved men/ says Professor Clifford (Fortnightly Review, 
June, 1875, p. 793), ' what have they to do with the sturdy 
strength of a wide-eyed hero who fears no foe with 

pen and club That which you keep in your hearts, 

my brethren, is the slender remnant of a system which 
has made its mark on history, and still lives to threaten 
mankind. The grotesque forms of its intellectual belief 
have survived the discredit of its moral teaching of this, 
what the kings could bear with the nations have cut 
down, and what the nations left, the right heart of man 
by man revolted against day by day. You have stretched 
out your hands to save the dregs of the sifted sediment 
of a residuum. Take heed lest you have given soil and 
shelter to the seed of that awful plague which has 
destroyed two civilizations, and but barely failed to stay 
such promise of good as is now struggling to live among 

The ' sifted sediment of a residuum' which our authors 
have tried to save is the belief in a personal God, and in 


the immortality of man : when these last dregs of a 
baleful system shall have been cleared away, then free 
development will be given to the promise of God, which 
in the atmosphere tainted by Christian faith and hopes, 
can now only with difficulty be sustained in life at all. 

Oh, how these terrible utterances of men of science, to 
whom we owe so much in their own proper field, cast 
down the hearts of those who would fain do something, 
not prate about what should be done, but help to do it 
in the department of beneficence and Christian love. 
They leave open to us, it is true, the field of the emo- 
tions, for religion to weave its pretty fanciful tissues in; 
but why should they leave us these ? Free rein it seems 
to me may be given to the lusts and appetites, for are 
they not natural ? And why should we curb nature ? 
Why not spend a short life and a merry one, if there is 
no God to whom we are responsible no hereafter to 
which the principles of continuity as regards the in- 
dividual will apply ? The whole brute creation groan- 
ing already (says Paul) in sufficient travail pangs, and 
dumbly waiting for a redemption, is handed over re- 
morselessly to the vivisectionist for the purposes of 
physiological experiment, to be repeated as often as it 
may please the scientific lecturer to re-demonstrate the 
demonstration for the satisfaction of his class of ' wide- 
eyed 7 students. And who will continue to care for you 
on whom social arrangements, or, as they are called, 
social necessities, press so hard, excepting as interest- 
ing subjects for sanitary experiments and observations, 
if the motives of that more than human love, to which 
the Son of God gave His sanction in His life and in His 
death, are finally and effectively withdrawn ? 

If we are ' only machinery wound up by putting food 
into the mouth 3 (as in a certain sense and within certain 
limits undoubtedly we are, for the mechanism would 
stop if food ceased to be supplied), it surely cannot be 
much matter in this inexorable universe whether we poor 
human clocks go for the whole, or only the half or quarter, 
of our normal day. The material particles that consti- 
tute us will pass into other combinations, and as for 


' consciousness/ that, Yon Hartman tells us, is the great 
mistake of the universe. And if you piteously plead 
' We must live/ perhaps you may be met with the answer 
of the French cynic, ' Sirs, I do not altogether see the 

I do not feel sure what are the two civilizations which 
Professor Clifford has in his mind as having been 
destroyed by Christianity, whether the Greek civilization 
of Corinth, or Antioch, or Ephesus as it existed in the 
days of Paul ; or the Roman civilization depicted in the 
pages of Tacitus and Suetonius, of which before it 
reached its lowest point a thoughtful contemporary 
writer said, ' We have gone so far that we can endure 
neither our vices nor their remedies ; ' or the Mahometan 
civilization of Spain. Whether they were worth pre- 
serving, though I admit that Spain did not gain much 
by the change which introduced the Inquisition as well 
as the Church, is a problem I am not careful to answer 
now ; but I do put the question fearlessly, whether a 
wider and fuller and deeper appreciation of the grand 
verities of Christianity is not the one thing 1 needed to 
redress the inequalities and remedy the evils of the 
civilization of to-day. What contrast can be greater 
than that between East and West London ? Officers of 
the Guards and dainty delicate ladies each endeavoured 
in diverse ways to seek and save the lost, the straying, 
the fallen. The root idea is that of Christian brother- 
hood and personal responsibility. 

In the quarrels of capital and labour, even political 
economy is obliged to treat men and women as intelli- 
gent beings having wills and desires, and as something 
more than automatic machines with powers of locomo- 
tion ; and even laws of supply and demand, of scarcity 
and redundancy of labour, which I admit to be the ulti- 
mate philosophy of the case, will work with less friction 
when the pivots of the machine are oiled with equality, 
consideration, and even (I will venture to say, weak as 
the word may sound) with compassion. 

I readily admit further, that Christianity has often been- 
presented to the world in ungracious and unlovely forms, 


not seldom even in caricature. And those who do not 
conceal their hatred of her have not been slow to take 
advantage of their opportunity. Take an example. 
Professor Clifford says : ' One form of this habitual con- 
ception is set forth by the popular and received theology 
of Christian communities. According to this the con- 
dition of the departed depends ultimately on the will of a 
Being who a long while ago cursed all mankind because 
one woman disobeyed Him. The curse was no mere 
symbol of displeasure,, but a fixed resolve to keep His 
victims alive for ever, writhing in horrible tortures, in a 
place which his Divine foreknowledge had prepared be- 
forehand. In consideration however of the death of his 
Son, effected by unknowing agents, he consented to feed 
with the sweets of his favour such poor wretches as 
should betray their brethren, and speak sufficiently soft 
words to the destroyer of their kindred. For the rest, 
the old curse survives in its power, condemning them 
to everlasting torment for a manifestation of his glory.' 
So far the caricature, for which I admit there is some 
justification in the language of certain theological 
schools. Yet even John Stuart Mill felt the earth to be 
under a curse, a relentless natural system, which pre- 
vented his thinking of God otherwise than as a Being 
limited in power, or deficient in benevolence. And the 
great consoling and sustaining truth of the Gospel is that 
there is a redemption from this curse. Christ hath re- 
deemed us from the curse not only of the one law which 
Paul had in his mind (Gal. iii. 13), but of all law, and 
that whatever tokens of God's severity there are in the 
world, there are more and larger tokens of His -love, 
that where sin abounded grace doth much more abound 
(Rom. v. 20). I do not know how many of nay hearers 
may have read a famous book (Ecce Homo) which 
appeared some ten years since, in which the characteris- 
tic feature of that Divine life which was lived among the 
towns and villages of Galilee and Judeea 1850 years ago, 
was pronounced to be 'the enthusiasm of humanity/ 
the love of our race, and of the individuals of the race, 
of our neighbour in the simple phrase of Christ Himself, 


pushed to the highest point, and burning in the soul 
with the utmost intensity. 

It is this love, this enthusiasm, which the disciple 
who may have drunk it into his moral system in those 
refreshing moments when he leant on his Master's 
bosom and heard His words, and who wrote this 
Catholic Epistle, seems to set before us who still read 1 
his words, as one of the great cardinal principles of 
Christianity, righteousness, purity, love ; these are the 
great fruits of the faith which believes and therefore 
overcomes. There' are antichrists, but they will have 
no power among his little children, because they are 
strong and the word of God abideth in them. There 
are many false prophets gone out into the world, but 
they saw clear, they had an anointing from the Holy 
One, whereby they could discern the spirits that were 
of God. There were philosophers confounding the 
colours, blurring the distinctions of good and evil, but 
they had an instinct within, a heart which either con- 
demned them or allowed, telling them that he that 
committeth sin was of that devil, whose bonds the Son 
of Grod had come on earth to loosen ; and that he alone 
who doeth righteousness is righteous even as He is 

Righteousness, purity, love, John's three ; identical 
in fact though not in phrase with Paul's three, faith, 
hope, charity. For charity and love are the same even 
in word, as the Apostle spoke it; and purity is the fruit 
of hope ' He that hath this hope in him purifieth 
himself even as He is pure;' and righteousness is the 
only proof of a really regenerating and saving faith 
1 If ye know that He is righteous, ye know that every 
one that doeth righteousness is born of Him.' 

And this seems to me to be a Gospel for East 
Londoners and West Londoners, for wide-eved students 

-' v 

and horny-handed artisans, for gentle people and coster- 
mongers, for priest and people ; as Paul puts it, for Jew 
and Greek, barbarian and Scythian, bond and free, for 
there is no difference (Col. iii. 11). I do not believe in 
the Gospel of Christ being a mere system of magical 


arts, a mystery entrusted to a caste, such as was at- 
tempted to be practised at Epliesus by those sons of 
Sceva the Jew. It expanded, as everything 
made up of a vast number of related truths may be ex- 
panded, into a philosophical system, which you may call 
' the queen of the sciences/ as dealing with the highest 
subject on which the mind can occupy itself; but its 
power over the consciences and affections of men does 
not dwell there. It is in its simpler forms, as it can be 
taught to babes, that it is most effective. As a rule of 
life, bidding us be pure, and unselfish, and kindly affec- 
tioned; as a high ideal/ stimulating us to forget the 
things that are behind and to reach forward unto things 
that are yet before ; as an indwelling power, enlightening 
us where we saw but dimly, enabling and capacitating 
us when we were feeble or incompetent ; purifying us 
when appetite or passion were in danger of blunting the 
finer perceptions of the heart, the nobler purposes of 
the soul ; laying the foundation-stone of an ampler and 
higher life, first for the individual, and then for the 
society and the race it was thus that the "Word of Life 
presented itself to the mind of the Apostle John : it is 
thus that I have tried to present it to you to-day. If it 
had free course ; if all who preached it practised it ; if 
there were less cant and hypocrisy and inconsistency in 
the world ; if "men with low, selfish motives were at 
once detected when they endeavoured to conceal their 
motives from their fellow-men under the mask of 
religion if its opponents would condescend to- debate' 
the question with becoming seriousness, and its advo- 
cates would cease to advance arguments in its defence 
which cannot be sustained; if the failure of other 
systems to explain the phenomena of humanity, and 
still more to relieve its admitted ills and sorrows, were 
more fairly estimated and more fully known, perhaps it 
would get to be thought and seen that even Christianity 
had not said its last l word. 

The great author of the ' Analogy of Religion to the 
Course of Nature/ for once yielding to the seduction of 
the imagination, pictures to himself the possibilities,, 


even under the existing conditions of life, of a perfectly 
virtuous society. Christ's most common phrase for the 
system He was setting-up on earth was ' The Kingdom 
of Heaven.' 

Conceive St George's-in-the-East as a part of that 
kingdom ! I trust it is so, even now. The gracious 
influences are, as it were, in the air ready to de- 1 

If the two great curses of our modern civilization, 
drunkenness and .prostitution, were swept away, the 
streets in which you live would be more like heaven 
than they are, anyhow. If men and women were true 
to one another, and to themselves ; if they were honest 

J S tj 

and when you speak of an honest man, still more 
when you speak of an honest woman, you mean some- 
thing more than one who will not pick your pocket 
there would at any rate be more types on earth than there 
are of what the Son of God was manifested to make 
us all. We first frustrate the grace of God, do despite 
to it, trample it under our feet, and then call the Gospel 
a failure. We make Christian influence impossible ; 
and then ask where it is to be found. We first grieve, 
and finally quench the Spirit of Gfod, and then say we 
can recognize no tokens of His presence or His power. 
And yet, under all these circumstances and disadvan- 
tages, there, are to be found in palaces and in cottages, 
in West- end . squares and in East- end slums, pure, and 
brave, and noble souls ; and where one such soul lives 
and breathes, and diffuses the fragrance of a beneficent 
influence and the power of a saintly life, there is the 
proof of the truth of Christ's Gospel, there is the 
witness that God still leaves of Himself in the world. 

The sermon was intently listened to by a large and 
intelligent congregation, who filled every available inch 
in the spacious church. 

Mr Harry Jones is doing a great work here, the 
greater because of the failures that have preceded him. 
To the riots of Mr Bryan King succeeded a long sopori- 
ferous period, but, at the advent of Mr Jones, every-. 


tiling seemed to start into life as the Sleeping Beauty 
at the coming of the destined knight. 

In assessing East-end congregations, it must be re- 
membered that it is not the fashion here to go to church, 
as it is at the West. Those who come to church mean 
something by it. They are in earnest. Life is terribly 
earnest at the East- end of London. The prestige of 
Mr Jones's name brings many distinguished men, such 
as Dean Stanley, Professor Jowett, and Mr Llewellyn 
Davies into this Ultima Thule; and -it can scarcely be 
but that his influence should tell for good on what many 
men would consider the most difficult stratum of London 
Society ; but Mr Jones's peculiarity is to ignore diffi- 
culties. He smiles at them, evidently holding the maxim 
that the harder a duty is the more worth doing is it. 
These are the men to leave their mark on any popula- 
tion, but especially an East London one. 


A SERMON of a very exceptional kind was preached 
by the Bishop of Lincoln, at St James's, ^Piccadilly, 
as one of the series on the Use and Abuse of the World. 
I cannot help thinking the idea must have been sug- 
gested by the success of Mr Stopford Brooke's semi- 
secular lectures on Theology in the English Poets. In- 
stead of the less congenial topic of harrying Wesleyans, 
or denouncing race-horses, Bishop Wordsworth delivered 
himself on Art. 

The title of the discourse in full was, e On the True 
Character and Functions of the Arts of Painting, Sculp- 
ture, and Architecture ; ' the text being taken from 
Exodus xxxi. 1 5, ' And the Lord spake unto Moses, 
saying, See, I have called by name Bezaleel the son of 


Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah ; and I have 
filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom, and in 
understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of 
workmanship, to devise cunning works, to work in gold, 
and in silver, and in brass, and in cutting of stones, to 
set them, and in carving of timber, to work in all 
manner of workmanship ; and I, behold, I have given 
with him Aholiab, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of 
Dan : and in the hearts of all that are wisehearted I 
have put wisdom, that they may make all that I have 
commanded thee. 3 

Whatever is beautiful in Art, said Dr Wordsworth, 
is from God, and tends to God. It comes from heaven 
to earth, and aspires from earth to heaven. It is born 
in time and lives in time, but it yearns for Eternity. It 
is bounded by space, but it aims at Infinity. In the 
works of Creation all genuine Art loves and adores the 
Creator. In forms of human grace and loveliness it 
discerns gleams of Divine beauty and glory. It .deals 
with objects of sense, but it nourishes Imagination, and 
cherishes Faith. It acts on what is material, but it 
holds converse with what is spiritual. It has to do 
with what is fleeting, but looks beyond to what is 
eternal. It holds, as it Avere, a balance between both 
worlds, and blends earth with heaven. It dwells amid 
the changes and chances of this mortal life, but it calms 
and cheers the soul by a holy discipline, preparing it 
for the repose and bliss of a joyful immortality. 

In proportion as Art is conscious of its heavenly 
origin and immortal destiny, and accordingly as these 
truths are more fully recognized among us, so it may 
be expected to recover from the condition of de- 
generacy and decay, into which, notwithstanding some 
noble examples of distinguished merit, it seems to have 
now fallen. 

With reverence be it said, the great Architect, 
Sculptor, and Painter of the Universe is Almighty God. 
Hence the name* with which He was designated by 
the Platonic School of Philosophy, and by the Christian 

* Demiurgus, or worker for the people. 


Fathers. The work of the visible Creation was de- 
signed and executed by God for man, made in the Divine 
image and animated with the Divine breath, and for 
woman, made (literally Imilded *) by God out of man, 
and created for immortality. 

Work is not the end proposed by God either to 
Himself or to man. Eternity is a state of rest and 
felicity. This was symbolized by God at the beginning. 
Each of the six days of the week of Creation is said to 
have an evening as well as morning, but the seventh 
day is not said to have an evening; and why ? because 
work has an end, but the seventh day (which alone was 
blessed by God) is a type of that heavenly rest and 
glorious resurrection which remain to the people of 
God, the rest of a joyful eternity. 

The first great human work of Art described in 
Holy Scripture is the Ark, made by the patriarch 
Noah, after the directions given him. by God. This 
work was transitory, but it foreshadowed renovation 
and repose. : The ark rode 011 the waves of the flood, 
but it anchored on Ararat, and sent forth Noah and 
his sons to repeople the world ; and it prefigured the 
Church, tempest-tost on the billows of this world, but 
with a sure hope of coming to the heavenly haven of 
eternal peace and joy. 

That other work, the Tabernacle and its furniture, 
which occupies so large a space in the narrative of the 
Pentateuch, had its origin in heaven, and from God. 
( See thou make it ' (He said to Moses) ' according to 
the pattern showed to thee in the Mount/ It was the 
abode of God's visible presence, and it was the guide of 
His people through the wilderness of Arabia to Canaan, 
the type of their future rest. Though the tabernacle 
was itinerant and migratory in an earthly wilderness, it 
tended to what is heavenly and eternal. It was re- 
produced in an ampler form in the stationary Temple 
at Jerusalem, made also after a pattern from God ; but 
its true antitype is in the Body of Christ, and in His 
Church glorified for ever in Heaven. ' Umbra in Lege, 

* Gen. ii. 22. 


Imago in Evangelic, Veritas in coelo/ This is true of 
Art in the highest sense of the word. Art is heaven- 
born, and has hopes full of immortality. 

Painting and Sculpture have been called imitative 
arts. But is not this a defective and disparaging 
definition ? It is true that Art must be a careful 
student of Nature, and not only diligently observe, 
but also lovingly adopt, and be able to combine, her 
forms, colours, and graces skilfully and readily. But 
Art is not a slave, she is freeborn ; she is not a servile 
copyist ; she has a creative power. Her aim is not 
to deceive, but to educate, to purify, to tranquillize, 
to exhilarate, and to exalt. If it were the end of Art 
merely to imitate, and to cheat by imitation, then a 
statue by Bernini would be superior to a work of 
Michael Angelo, and we should prefer a group by 
Teniers, or a portrait by Denner, to a composition of 
Claude and Vandyke. 

Servile copying is not the end of Art, but is rather 
its bane. Our ' Schools of Art ' (as they are called) 
in London and in our provincial cities, may, if well 
regulated, do much to promote the cause of Art ; but 
unless they are on their guard, they may also impair 
and injure it. Doubtless it is their duty to encourage 
accuracy and precision in design, but let their aim be 
much higher than this. A genuine artist is a good 
man ; faithful, loving, holy, and devout ; his heart is in 
heaven ; he is educated by careful study of nature and 
of antique models, and of ideal beauty ; he is convers- 
ant with poetry, history, and philosophy; he ought to 
have read much, and travelled much, and thought much, 
and to have his memory stored and his imagination 
warmed with noble deeds, and graceful forms, and 
beautiful scenes. 

It would be well, therefore, that our schools of Art 
should be furnished with good libraries and picture 
galleries and museums ; and that the students should 
have opportunities of attending Lectures on Art (such 
as the discourses delivered by Sir Joshua Reynolds as 
President of the Royal Academy), and also on History 


and Poetry, and on the affinity between Poetry and 
the Fine Arts, and on the common principles and 
laws which regulate them, and lead to perfection in 
them all. 

The proper function of Art is to teach, to refine, to 
invigorate, to purify, and to elevate the mind by means 
of what is beautiful. 

But what is Beauty ? Certainly not that which 
merely dazzles the eye, fascinates the sense, and excites 
the appetite, and inflames the passions, which are the 
baser and coarser elements of our nature, and ought to 
be restrained and controlled by the higher and nobler. 
If Art forgets her true office, and ministers to what is 
sensual and voluptuous, she degrades herself, and en- 
feebles, depraves, and demoralizes society. 

What then is Beauty ? It is what the Poet calls the 
' ideal form and universal mould/ It is not concrete, 
but abstract ; not special, but general ; it informs, 
spiritualizes, and adorns whatever is lovely in life, moral, 
intellectual, and artistic ; it is not transitory and fleet- 
ing, but imperishable and eternal ; it is revealed, as it 
were, by inspiration to the pure and loving heart, and 
to the healthful imaginative faculty, and is what may 
be supposed to exist in all its perfection in the essential 
archetype in the Divine Mind, and in the attributes of 
the Godhead itself. It is, as it were, ' the pattern 
shown in the mount.' 

This definition of beauty is suggested by what we 
read of works of Art in Holy Scripture. The history 
of the Creation, of the building of the Ark, and -of the 
Tabernacle and Temple bear witness to it. They all 
came from heaven, and tended heavenward. They 
were shadows of things unseen and eternal. ' Every 
good gift, and every perfect gift/ says St James, ' is 
from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights.' 
All true beauty is from God, and aspires to God. 

This is what was taught by the greatest of ancien*fc 
philosophers. The language of Plato is explicit and 
emphatic. He represents true Beauty not as earthly, 
perishable, and sensuous, but. heavenly, immortal, 


and spiritual. It is that which, not being visible in 
its abstract and ideal essence by man, but dwelling 
in the nature of God, imparts grace by emanations 
and gleams of loveliness to all that is beautiful in this 
lower world ; and it is by communion with that 
spiritual essence, revealing itself in forms of earthly 
beauty to pure and loving hearts, and chaste imagina- 
tions, that the mind of man is cleansed and sanctified 
and spiritualized, and has visions of Divinity and of 
eternity, a,nd is loved by God, and partakes of His 

The true function of Art is to endeavour, by a subtle 
analysis, to discern this ideal beauty, and to present its 
imagery to the eye by pictures of visible forms, not 
losing their identity, but transfigured, and spiritualized, 
and bathed in heavenly light and glory. 

Such sentiments as these inspired the noblest artists, 
and especially him who holds a high place as a painter, 
sculptor, and architect, and also as a poet Michael 

Let me be allowed to quote his own words in one of 
his sonnets, in which he describes the feelings with which 
he looked upon forms of earthly loveliness, and was raised 
by the sight to the contemplation of what is heavenly 
and Divine, Let me give them as translated by one of 
our own poets :* 

' No mortal object did these eyes behold, 

When, first they met the placid light of thine, 
And my soul felt its destiny divine, 

And hope of endless peace in me grew bold : 

Heaven-born, the soul a heavenward course must hold; 
Eeyond the visible world she soars to seek 
(For what delights the sense is false and weak) 

Ideal form, the universal mould. 

The wise man, I aifirin, can find no rest 
In that which perishes ; nor will he lend 
His heart to aught which doth, on time depend. 
'Tis sense, unbridled will, and not true love, 

That kills the soul : Love betters what is best, 
Even here below, but more in heaven above.' 

* Wordsworth's Sonnet xxv. 


Again, he says in another sonnet, also translated by- 

* Better plea 

Lore cannot have, than that in loving thee 

Glory to that eternal Peace is paid 
Who such divinity to thee imparts 
As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts ; 

His hope is treacherous only, whose love dies 
With beauty which is varying every hour ; 
But in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power 
Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower 

That breathes on earth the air of paradise.' 

Lest such sentiments as these should seem fantastic 
and visionary, let me refer to the words of two writers, 
who will not be suspected of undue enthusiasm Win- 
kelrnann and Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

' The perfection of beauty ' (says the former) c rests 
only in God ; and human beauty is elevated in proportion 
as it approaches the idea of God, Who by unity and in- 
divisibility is distinguished from what is material. This 
idea of Beauty is a spiritual quintessence extracted from 
created substances, as it were, by an alchemy of fire; 
and is produced by the imagination endeavouring to con- 
ceive what is human existing as a prototype in the mind 
of God.' 

1 Painting/ says Sir Joshua, ' is not a mere gratifica- 
tion of the sight by imitation of external nature. Such 
excellence is unworthy of regard, when the works aspire 
to grandeur and sublimity. A mere copier of nature can 
never produce anything that is great, he can never raise 
and enlarge the conceptions or warm the heart of the 
spectator; a genuine painter must strive for fame not 
by neatness of imitation, but by captivating the imagina- 
tion. All the arts receive their perfection from an ideal 
beauty, superior to what is found in individual nature. 

' The genius of a true sculptor is a gift of Heaven, an 
inspiration from above. As described by the ancients, 
he is supposed to have ascended to the celestial region, 
and to have imbued his mind with a perfect idea of 
beauty. An ancient sculptor like Phidias, when he 
would represent a Zeus or an Athene, did not set before 


him any human pattern, but having a more perfect idea 
of majesty and beauty in his own mind, he steadily con- 
templated this, and earnestly endeavoured to represent 

Let us apply these principles to the arts of design. 

What is it in architecture that excites admiration ? 

It is something derived from the unseen and eternal 
world, and which raises the mind upward to it. 

For example, in contemplating some grand ancient 
Doric temple, siicli as the stately Parthenon planted on 
the rock of the Athenian Acropolis, as it stood of old 
above the din of the city, and above the crowd eddying 
in the Agora below it, or the Cathedral Church of 
Lincoln, rising in majestic dignity above the smoke of 
the busy city beneath it, we are moved by a delightful 
sensation of something grand, solid, sublime, substantial 
and enduring, something elevated above the atmosphere 
of this world, and superior to all its weary cares and 
toils, and its restless changes and chances ; and under 
its influence the mind is raised upward and has a fore- 
taste of future bliss, and enjoys a calm vision of that 
heavenly and everlasting repose, and pure unsullied de- 
light, which we may hope to enjoy after the labours of 
this life in the blissful Sabbath of eternity. 

So again, in the interior of Westminster Abbey and of 
our great Cathedral Churches, the inter weavings and 
interlacings of light and shade, and the gradual reveal- 
ings of new and ever- vary ing vistas to the eye of the 
spectator, as he advances eastward from the west door, 
suggest to his imagination the feeling that there is a 
world ever beyond him, and give him glimpses of infinity. 

In the grandest buildings also of the Italian style, such 
as St Paul's Cathedral, the view of the interior of the 
dome, like a heaven suspended above us, especially if the 
vault be adorned with beautiful forms of saints and 
angels floating in the air (as in the frescoes of Correggio, 
in the Duomo at Parma), and melting away into the 
aerial abyss of the sky beyond, lead the imagination up- 
ward, by means of the architectural heaven, to the pure 


empyrean above, and enable it to soar aloft to the pre- 
sence and throne of God. 

In sculpture the main purpose is to produce a feeling 
of calm repose and joy after energetic action. The most 
famous statue of antiquity, the Apollo Belvedere, repre- 
sents this idea in perfection. He is not in action, but is 
contemplating, with pleasure, the effect of his own act. 

The most beautiful series of sculptured figures the 
Panathenaic frieze of the Parthenon represents a suc- 
cession of graceful forms on horseback, moving onward 
in an ideal stream and river-like flow of beauty, in order 
to present themselves in reverential homage to the 
Deities, seated in serene and joyous majesty, at the end 
of their career, and in order to participate, as it were, 
by a spiritual apotheosis in their heavenly repose and 
divine glory, after a course of earthly motion and 
human exertion like a rapid river losing itself in the 
peaceful bosom of a pellucid lake. 

The same may be said of the succession of triumphal 
arches spanning the Via Sacra at Rome. The victor 
stood aloft upon their summit, in his triumphal car ; this 
was his transitory action, but it was action leading to 
repose and joy. The Via Sacra led up to the Capitol, 
whither he rode to render grateful praise to the Deity 
for his victory ; and thus he was immortalized for ever 
as a conqueror mounting upward to heavenly glory. 

The triumphal Columns at Rome such as that of the 
Emperor Trajan represent a similar idea of human 
action, winding upward by an ever-ascending spiral of 
earthly labour to a serene apex of celestial quietness and 

The sculptured group in which Laocoon and his two 
sons are represented as struggling to disengage them- 
selves from the grasp of the venomous serpents, coiling 
around and strangling them, has been the subject of 
controversy from the time of Winkelmann and Lessing. 
The noble expression in the father's countenance is sup- 
posed by the former to represent parental love and pity 
felt for the sufferings of his children, triumphing over 
his own pain. The latter ascribes it to the genius of 


Greek Art shrinking from the representation of excruci- 
ating agony. 

"With deference to both these great names we may 
perhaps be allowed to express a doubt whether (not- 
withstanding the merits of this work, extolled by Pliny 
the elder and others) it belongs to the best and purest 
age of Greek art, and whether it was not rather a pro- 
duction of later days, when the mind was familiarized 
with scenes of savage cruelty and mortal sufferings in the 
gladiatorial shows of the Roman arena. 

And here let me refer to a more sacred and solemn 

In the days of early Christian Art, the Cross of Christ 
was naturally the symbol most dear to the heart and eye 
of the faithful. But the Cross in their sight was not so 
much an emblem of shame and sorrow as of victory and 
glory. f ln hoc signo vinces/ The Cross of Christ, 
when viewed by the imaginative organ of faith, was a 
banner of warfare, a trophy of triumph, a royal throne, 
a car of victory, on which the Saviour rode in glory to 
His palace in heaven. 

But probably no instance can be adduced earlier than 
tile eighth century of that which is now so often repre- 
sented in sculpture in marble tod wood not only in 
churches of foreign lands, but in crowded streets and 
rural waysides, with the painful attributes of distorted 
features and lacerated limbs, and bloodstained brows, in 
the Crucifixion. Early Christian Art loved the Cross, 
but it shunned the Crucifix. And was there not wisdom 
in this ? In the noble simplicity, and sublime abstraction, 
of the Cross, the imagination is left free to crown sorrow 
and suffering with a diadem and halo of glory. But in 
the Crucifix the imagination is enslaved by the senses, 
and is riveted to the contemplation of pain and shame 
and death, which were only transitory, and were the 
Saviour's path to the joy and glory of an everlasting life^ 
as He Himself says, ' I am He that liveth and was dead ; 
and, behold, I am alive for evermore/ But to fix the 
mind by means of such representations as I have 
described on the shame and sufferings of Christ, apart 


from the eternal glory and infinite joy to which they led 
Him, may be a snare, and may tempt men to impeach 
the equity and question the love of Grod, punishing the 
just for the unjust, and exposing His own Beloved Son 
to bitter pain and ignominious shame, and so may be 
prejudicial to faith, and give occasion to cavils against it. 

Let us apply these remarks to another department of 
sacred Art that of stained glass windows in churches. 

The glass stainers in ancient times acted on the 
principle of leaving' the outlines of their figures dimly 
defined and intermingled with white glass, inviting the 
eye to the heaven beyond it, so that the imagination had 
fair play in helping the faith of the spectator to complete 
the work by an ideal picture in his own heart and mind. 
But in modern days the action of the imagination and 
of faith is too often fettered and paralyzed, and the mind 
is overpowered by brilliant transparencies, stereotyping 
upon it commonplace forms, and haunting the memory 
with prosaic and vulgar representations of sacred per- 
sons and subjects, which ought to be veiled in mystery, 
and to be idealized with reverential awe. 

Let us descend to a lower level. The principles now 
submitted to your consideration may be applied also to 
landscape paintings and to portraits. 

What is it that imparts a charm to the mellow tints 
of sunset in the pictures of Claude or Turner, and to the 
rich foliage of the trees, and to the quiet bridge over 
the flowing river, and to the cattle reflected in the water, 
and to the old ivy-mantled tower or ruined temple, and 
to the calm expanse of the broad lake, and to the 
delicate hues of aerial distance melting away into infinity? 
Is it not the feeling that under the influence of objects 
like these we are transported from the petty cares and 
brief sorrows of to-day to a far-off age, and to a distant 
land of an ideal Arcadia, a poetic Elysium, or even a 
spiritual Paradise ? 

' Soul-soothing Art/ the poet may well say 

' that gives 

To moments caught from fleeting Time 
The appropriate calm of blest Eternity.' 


So it is also with portrait-painting. At the present 
day by the general use of photography (very valuable in 
representing buildings and in reproducing manuscripts), 
portrait-painting is in danger of being degraded to the 
low level and servile drudgery of endeavouring to 
execute facsimiles. It does not portray the mind by 
means of the mind, but (may we not rather say ?) it 
copies a machine by the help of a machine. It therefore 
fails of producing a real likeness. For a man is not 
what he seems to the eye to be at a particular moment 
of his existence, seized upon by the spasmodic shock of 
a mechanical process, but what he is in his generalized 
essence as discerned by the intuitive genius of the 
Artist. The genuine portrait-painter will indeed be 
careful to preserve the personal identity of the subject, 
but he penetrates below the surface into the inner re- 
cesses of the mind. And although his art is affected by 
conditions of time and space, it goes beyond the limits 
of both, and reveals some gleams of eternity. May we 
not say that he will suggest to us some faint glimmer- 
ings of what a beloved form may be imagined by us to 
be in a holier and happier world, when transfigured into 
a heavenly body by the power and love of Christ ? 

Let us, said the Bishop in conclusion, now offer some 
practical observations. 

The condition of Art in a country depends on the 
character of the people. The present decline of A.rt is 
due (it may be feared) to national degeneracy. The 
sense of what is really great, noble, and sublime seems 
to be on the wane. The great heathen nations of an- 
tiquity may well put us to shame in this respect. With 
them Art was a part of religion, and religion was allied 
with patriotism. If a colony was to be planted in a far- 
off land, the first thing they did was to build a magni- 
ficent temple. The great temples still standing at 
Psesturn, at Selinunte, at Segeste, and at Girgenti, are 
enduring monuments of their national genius and 
national piety. When Athens recovered from the 
incendiary ravages of the Persian invasion, the first 


thing she did was to rebuild the Parthenon, her great 
national temple, in greater splendour than before. With 
them the temples of the deities were their national 
palaces, and the palaces of their nobles were compara- 
tively like huts and cottages. 

It is a humiliating question for ourselves, Has any 
great cathedral church been erected by the English, 
nation the richest in the world in any of her own 
colonies ? 

Look, again, at our national monuments. It would 
be invidious to specify instances. But with a few 
splendid exceptions, the public works of painting, 
sculpture, and architecture in our own age one of 
boundless wealth and lavish prodigality in personal 
self-indulgence can hardly bear comparison, as to true 
genius and feeling, even with those of the petty Italian 
states of Pisa, Florence, Genoa, and Yenice ; to say 
nothing of the works of ancient artists, which even in 
their ruined and fragmentary state are still models to 

Bear with me in referring also to works of education. 

Think of the grotesque and monstrous caricatures 
which disfigure many of the books placed in the hands 
of our children. How can they ever learn to appreciate 
and love what is really graceful and beautiful in Art, 
when their minds are prematurely depraved and cor- 
rupted by familiarity with what is either hideous or 
ludicrous ? 

But let us hope for better things. And that this 
hope may be realized let Art be mindful of her high 
calling 1 . Her office, like that of Poetry, is to teach, to 
educate, elevate, adorn, to enlighten, cheer, refine, and 
purify society. A true artist is a good man. He regards 
his art with reverence. May we not say that he will 
not consider himself as a mechanic toiling in a workshop, 
but rather as a prophet and priest ministering in the 
natural Temple of the Universe for the glory of God and 
the welfare of mankind ? 

No study, however severe, both of nature and the 
best models, is superfluous in so noble a profession. No 


industry however unrelaxing, no observation however 
vigilant, no accuracy however minute and precise, are to 
be dispensed with. But these will be unavailing with- 
out a spirit of moral self-dedication. He will labour not 
only with the eye and the hand, but with the mind, the 
soul, and the heart. And therefore he will be conscious 
of the need of Divine grace, and of inspiration from 
above. The artists of the Tabernacle, which was made 
after the pattern in the heavenly mount, were Bezaleel 
and Aholiab. There is a spiritual meaning in their 
names. Bezaleel means one who dwells in the shadow 
of God. And he was the son of Uri, which means light. 
The true artist dwells under the shadow of the wings of 
Divine Glory and Beauty, and he is a child of heavenly 
light. And Aholiab means, the Father is my Tabernacle. 
The Father of Light dwells, as in a shrine, in the heart 
of the true artist. Both of these artists of the Taber- 
nacle worked after the pattern which God showed to 
Moses in the mount. The true artist labours to produce 
forms of ideal, heavenly beauty. Both these artists are 
said in Holy Scripture to have been ' filled with the 
Spirit of God, in wisdom and understanding and know- 
ledge, in all manner of workmanship.' The true artist 
seeks for the gift of the Holy Spirit in the means of 
grace. He seeks it in holy books, in noble histories, in 
sublime poems, such as those of Homer, .ZEschylus, 
Dante, Shakspeare, and Milton; he seeks it especially 
in the Bible. The Bible was the manual of Michael 
Angelo. The true artist seeks for it in Prayer, and in 
Holy Communion. Michael Angelo's sonnet on the 
need of grace, and on its gift in prayer, is one of the 
most beautiful productions of that great poet and artist. 
It is recorded of one of the holiest, purest, and most 
admirable painters of sacred subjects Fra Angelico da 
Fiesole that he never took his pencil into his hand 
without breathing forth a prayer, and that he never 
painted the Saviour on the Cross without having his 
eyes bedimined with tears. The true artist will scorn 
to minister food to the sensual appetite by unchaste 
pictures such as too often marred and debased the works 


of the Venetian school, and enfeebled the raanly vigour 
of the Venetian republic ; but he will labour in a spirit 
of pure and holy love. It was said 'of a great artist that 
he would as soon put his name to a forgery as to a 
caricature. In all that is beautiful in earthly forms he 
will see visions and images of heavenly glory. Earth 
will be to him a mirror of heaven. And he will enable 
others to see reflections of heaven in the creations of his 
own genius. The ileeting things of time will be to him 
shadows of eternity. His Art will be a religion. It 
will be consecrated and Christianized, and be full of 
happiness and joy ; and it will prepare him by holy dis- 
cipline to ' behold the King in his beauty/* and to 
contemplate for ever the Lord of Glory, and to recognize 
in Him a consummation of all that he has seen of loveli- 
ness in this lower world, and to have a full fruition of 
those ' things which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, 
and which God hath prepared for them that love Him/ 1 

This series of sermons is, I think, a salutary innovation 
on the stereotyped subjects of the pulpit ; and probably 
Bishop Wordsworth's contribution will pass muster with 
the rest. By the way, ' Society ' was the subject of a 
sermon a few weeks before. The Piccadilly folks do 
not appear to have profited by it, for the church was 
about two-thirds full, and yet many persons including 
two clergymen were allowed to stand all the time. 
Can it be that the notice posted on the door has any- 
thing to do with this circumstance ? It is to the effect 
that the pew-openers of St James's have much larger 
salaries than is usually the case, and are therefore strictly 
forbidden to accept gratuities from strangers for show- 
ing them to pews. 

* Isaiah xxxiii. 17. f Isaiah Ixiv. 41 ; Cor. ii. 9. 



F any one wished fairly to test the power of a preacher 
to attract a congregation, he should make the experi- 
ment, not on a Sunday, when there is a prejudice in 
favour of church-going to which a famous preacher only 
adds an additional attraction, but on a week-day, when 
the tone of things is still in many, perhaps most, churches 
against attendance at places of worship, at all events in 
the daytime. I did this on St John the Baptist's Day, 
at St Peter's, Eaton Square, where the Bishop of Oxford 
preached a sermon in aid of the Bishop of Capetown, 
and for providing the income of the Bishop of Maritz- 
burg. How many people in busy London, I mused as I 
sped along with the City men to an eleven o'clock 
service, even knew that it was St John's Day ? So 
completely have the festivals of the Church faded from 
ordinary observation that, except where they mark 
epochs in civil and social life quarter-day, for instance 
their very recurrence is unknown to nine-tenths of 
the population. I am not saying whether this is well, 
whether it should be so or not. I only say it is. 

St Peter's, Eaton Square, is surely the most incon- 
gruous of churches. I remember it the driest of the dry 
in the sweet soporiferous old times; and now at the 
east-end of that uncomely shrine of Morpheus a gorgeous 
chancel has dropped down as if by magic, and Mr Wil- 
kinson has long since wakened with his eloquence the 
sleeping beauties of Belgravia, who had slumbered in 
their pews all through the Lethean period. 

The congregation, on the occasion of my visit to St 
Peter's, was far from large, and mainly composed of 
ladies. This was unfortunate, because the Bishop's 


sermon, which was quite extempore, was very practical 
and good, and deserved a larger auditory. One can 
only hope that they made up in enthusiasm what they 
lacked in numbers, but I can scarcely hope that we 
helped South Africa much in the way of money, though 
the appeal to do so was very direct indeed. 

The bishop selected as his text 2 Cor. viii. 24, ' Show 
ye to them, and before the churches, the proof of your 
love, and of our boasting on your behalf.' From these 
words he preached a fluent extempore sermon on the 
motives that should inspire missionary efforts, with 
special reference to the diocese of Maritzburg. It was, 
he said, no new subject which had gathered us together, 
to provide for the wants of Christian people in a distant 
part of the world. To do so was to follow apostolic 
models, and reproduce the primitive Church. It was a 
new work then, but an old one now. The great powers 
could combine in ancient times to subdue a province, or 
set in order a government. For this purpose the vast 
Roman Empire had unequalled energies. There was, 
however, but a dim shadow of the feeling now alluded 
to in the love of country, or the Israelites' affection for 
the Holy Land. But in the New Testament we had the 
earliest manifestation of this Christian life. These 
Corinthians, for instance, had once scorned Palestine, 
but now, since their conversion, they held it dear. They 
were ready to part with that which men loved best 
their money. So was it with us. Those whom we were 
met to assist were farther off than Jerusalem was from 
Corinth ; but the same principle was actuating us a 
care for those dear brethren who, though distant, were 
near to our Christian faith, hope, and love. 

This, however, did not come to all Christian converts 
at cnce. Not in every case did charity supervene on 
baptism, or these chapters would never have been written. 
The two chapters embraced a series of reasons for 
Christian charity, which it was worth while to analyze. 
They were the Apostolic persuasions. Are they, asked 
the bishop, the same now as then ? 

The highest motive of all was stated in v. 9. It was 


that we owed a debt to Jesus Christ. { Though He was 
rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through 
His poverty might be rich/ This was the great Christian 
argument. St Paul pleaded the poverty of the Incarn- 
ation. This was the solid ground, the motive which 
all were bound to acknowledge, and therefore St Paul 
did not dwell at length upon it. He discussed it as 
being well known, and passed on to secondary motives 
which seemed almost unworthy in comparison. 

In the next chapter he proceeded to notice another 
motive, namely, the thanks their liberality would call 
forth, first to God, and then to themselves. This not 
the thanks to God, but to the donors seemed at best 
but a poor object. Then, too, he specified the prayers 
that would be evoked. ' By their prayers for you, who 
long after you, for the exceeding grace of God in you/ 
In another place St Paul urged this to a degree that 
was almost mercenary. He said, ' your carnal things 
will come back to you. 5 He made it a matter of bargain. 
The adversary could easily misrepresent it as an actual 
traffic between carnal and spiritual things. More mer- 
cenary still did it seem when he said he would not have 
others easy and them burdened. He made charity par- 
take of the nature of an investment. Another worldly 
motive held out was emulation. He would not have 
them outdone by the Macedonians. 

Lastly, he based his claim on personal affection to 
himself. He often did this. " With his tender but 
powerful voice he said, ' Remember my bonds/ He 
bade them listen to the clank of his chain ; he pointed 
them to his furrowed cheek, and worn frame. We might 
guess how this worked on the new converts. We saw 
how powerfully it told on the elders of the Ephesian 
Church when they met him at Miletus. 

Now the question was, Do these elements of per- 
suasion exist at the present time ? For instance, will 
you yourselves, asked the Bishop, gain thankfulness in 
South Africa ? Yes ; it was a happy thing for the 
Englishman in his distant work out there to find sym- 
pathy, when there were none of the old happy home 



associations surrounding him. Gifts from home do work 
exceeding thankfulness. The amount of the gift was 
multiplied by affection. They will,, added the Bishop, 
be thankful to God and to you for whatever you do on 
their behalf. 

Should we gain their prayers ? Yes ; they were not 
behind us in praying. Our prayers were theirs, our 
services theirs, our sacraments the same. These usages 
of the Catholic Church were not forgotten on the other 
side of the great sea. They would not forget us. 

Should he, the preacher asked, speak of mercenary 
expectations ? It seemed absurd that wealthy England 
could get any return from the dioceses washed by the 
Southern seas. But we did not know the future. Who 
could tell whether the Church of Christ might not have 
days of poverty and trouble here ? A return from these 
distant branches might be of the greatest service in time 
of need. Already a return had comein the earnest courage 
displayed by the Church in South Africa. God's truth 
attested there had exerted an influence on ourselves. 
A noble prelate had been raised up to defend the faith 
when we had not the courage to do it. We had, indeed, 
received from Capetown a gift more precious than gold. 

I can but repeat my hope that South Africa may also 
receive from England something more satisfying than 
our gifts on that particular morning, for unless some of 
the donors were very munificent ones indeed, I can 
scarcely believe that the see of Maritzburg derived any 
very appreciable advantage. 



is scarcely a more striking contrast to be 
_L found in London than that between the bright green 
little graveyard which surrounds the Chapel Royal, 
Savoy, and the grimy backs of the Strand houses which 
hem it in on one side, while unpicturesque warehouses 
press it on the others, and the grim old German Lutheran 
Chapel stands between it and the river. Quite a crowd 
of early arrivals throngs the churchyard gate of a Sunday 
morning ; for it is a belief ingrained in the convictions 
of the ordinary church-goer that morning service must 
commence at eleven o'clock, whereas it did not commence 
on the morning of my Sunday visit until half-past eleven. 
We amused ourselves therefore by pacing round the quaint 
little place watching the long procession of Teutonic faces 
file past us to the Lutheran Church, and by and by, 
listening to their chorales in the distance. I was dis- 
mayed to find that tickets were required to gain admit- 
tance to the Savoy Church, and that one must apply to 
the chaplain by the previous Friday, understanding if no 
reply was received that no seats were vacant. When 
the door was opened one freeborn Briton was exceedingly 
irate at being excluded in consequence of this arrange- 
ment. I was obliged to send in my name to the chaplain, 
and so passed through the vestry to I really believe the 
only vacant seat in the church. 

The little building was beautifully decorated for Whit 
Sunday ; there being two vases of white flowers on the 
altar, with vast masses in the recesses of the reredos, and 
pots at the foot of the candelabra. The pulpit and 
lectern were also festooned with flowers, and the altar 
itself, which is surmounted by a coloured window repre- 


senting the Crucifixion, was vested in white, and there 
was a large mural cross above it. The choir, which was 
a surpliced one, wore bright purple cassocks with scarlet 
girdles, the surplices being fastened with a red cross at 
the neck. They entered in slow procession from the 
vestry, followed by the Rev. Henry "White, who is the 
chaplain, and the preacher for the day The Bishop of 
Bipon. The episcopal vestments looked quite sombre 
against the coloured cassocks of the choir and the crim- 
son of Mr White's hood. There is a sad deficiency of 
colour in our bishops' dresses. 

The service commenced with the Yeni Creator, of 
which Dryden's version was taken to a tune by Barnby. 
I am heterodox enough to prefer Dryden's words to 
those in the ordination service. They are the ones com- 
mencing thus : 

' Creator Spirit, by whose aid 
The world's foundations first were laid, 
Come, visit every pious mind ; 
Come, pour thy joys on humankind ; 
Prom sin and sorrow set us free, 
And make Thy temples worthy Thee.' 

The hymns at the Savoy are generally taken from the 
Hymnary ; but there is a special supplement called the 
Savoy Hymnary, in which this particular hymn occurs. 
The soprano voices in the choir were very good, but 
rather overbalanced those of the men. The singing 
seemed general in the congregation. When the hymn 
was over, the Bishop proceeded at once with the Ante- 
Communion Service, reading the Commandments, be- 
tween which the choir sang a very melodious kyrie. The 
Nicene Creed was monotoned, the organist, Mr H, F. 
Frost, introducing harmonies very skilfully in the spirit 
of the different. clauses of the creed. Another hymn wa.s 
sung from the Hymnary, and then the Bishop proceeded 
to the pulpit. 

His Lordship, who preached extempore and without 
any notes, took his text from St Luke ii. 13, ' If ye., 
then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your 
children, how much more shall your heavenly Father 


give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him ? 3 The dis- 
ciples, said Dr Bickersteth, had just asked to be taught 
to pray, and, in response, there was given to them that 
comprehensive prayer, called the Lord's Prayer, of which 
it had been said that it embraced every blessing man 
could ask or God bestow. The necessity of prayer was 
much called in question in these days. If God were 
omniscient, it was asked, why should we express our 
wants to Him ? If He be immutable, how could we ex- 
pect Him to change or alter His irrevocable purposes at 
the cry of a feeble creature ? We might answer that 
prayer is a privilege and a duty, not a mere method of 
getting what we wanted. 

This, continued the Bishop, was Whit Sunday, the 
Festival of the Church whereupon we considered God's 
gift of the Holy Spirit, and he proposed to examine 
separately the nature of that gift, the blessing bound up 
with it, and man's warrant to expect it. 

I. His lordship at some length then stated the Scrip- 
tural grounds for believing in the Divinity of the Holy 
Spirit, and the important offices discharged by Him in 
reference to man's salvation. There were certain attri- 
butes of Jehovah which were termed incommunicable, 
such as God's omniscience, eternity, and right to be 
worshipped. All these belonged to the Holy Ghost, and, 
therefore, we believed Him to be Divine. Then, again, 
He was not, as some ancient heretics said, a mere afflatus 
of the Deity. He was a distinct person, and all the 
characteristics of a separate personality were referred to 
Him. He was said to be ' grieved ' at our sins, for in- 
stance. Amongst His offices were enumerated His in- 
spiration of the prophets, His instrumentality in the 
miraculous Conception of Christ, and the offering of the 
great sacrifice on Calvary, as well as His ' quickening ' 
after death. All along the plan of our salvation those 
offices were traceable. 

II. Man was a complex being, made up of an imma- 
terial soul shrined in a material body. It was originally 
intended that the spiritual element should govern the 
material one; that the body should be the handmaid of 


the soul. In the ruin brought about by man's apostasy 
this original order was reversed. The noblest faculties 
of man's mind and spirit were made to serve the instincts 
of the body. How could this be reversed ? Only by the 
creative power of the Holy Spirit. The eye of faith 
could see what to the material eye was invisible. He 
convinced of sin. He led to Jesus. He fashioned the 
soul for immortality. Every hope of salvation depended 
upon Him.. So far we had only noted His offices during 
this life ; but ere long we should die, and then the spirit 
would return to God, who gave it. The material body 
would be sown in corruption, earth to earth, ashes to 
ashes, dust to dust ; but then the loving guardianship 
of the Holy Spirit would extend to the shattered ma- 
terials. The dust should be re-formed and live again ; 
the spirit raised to dwell with Christ in glory. The 
Holy Spirit would quicken our mortal bodies as he had 
quickened Christ's. 

III. What was the warrant for expecting this bestow- 
ment of the Holy Spirit ? The reason was forcibly 
stated in the text. Where was the parent who would 
not give anything in his power for the good of his child ? 
We were capricious and powerless, and therefore a 
fortiori would God, who was all love and power, give the 
Holy Spirit to them who asked Him. We had the dis- 
tinct warrant of God's own promise that if we asked we 
should receive. Then, again, we were living under the 
dispensation of the Spirit. There had been three dis- 
pensations, the Patriarchal, the Legal, and the Gospel 
dispensation. In the first the unity of God was the 
paramount idea. In the Levitical the person and work of 
Christ were presignified by type and ceremony ; but in 
the last the presiding thought was the work of the Holy 
Spirit in leading man to Christ to train for immortality. 
We had then, above all, a special warrant under this 
dispensation for expecting the gift of the Holy Spirit. 
May it be ours ; for it was the most precious gift God 
could bestow. 

The preacher then drew a beautifully contrasted 
picture of the condition of those destitute of this gift as 


compared with those who possessed it. Possessing this, 
they possessed all things. 1 ! They had omnipotent grace 
to stand them in stead for every difficulty and trial. 

Finally, this gift was to be sought for by importunate 
prayer. JSTot only so, but also by use of all the means 
of grace. His lordship especially invited his hearers to 
the Holy Communion then about to be celebrated, where 
such means of grace were conveyed by the ' consecrated 
emblems of Christ's body and blood/ A confirmation 
had taken place at the Savoy Church on the previous 
day, and the sermon closed with a very earnest appeal 
to those newly confirmed ones who were present, that 
they should continue thus to come until the blessed hour 
when they should pass from the ranks of the Church 
Militant to that of the Church Triumphant, and see Christ 
without the aid of ' memorials/ without any veil to 
intercept the unclouded brightness of His presence. 

It was said of Locke's great Essay on the Human 
Understanding that, though it dealt with the most 
abstruse subjects, it did so in a way which rendered 
them plain to the simplest capacity; and the same 
remark might have been made of the Bishop of Ripon's 
sermon at the Savoy. Dealing with the mysterious 
event of the first Whit Sunday and the doctrines 
bound up with it, the matter was so handled as to 
bring the subject down to the level of the meanest 
comprehension. His lordship's style is singularly 
fluent and easy, without the slightest pause -or repeti- 
tion. The right word seems to fall easily and naturally 
into the right place ; and the sermon of Whit Sunday 
might well stand as a model of a plain Evangelical 
discourse, not without the relief of occasional flights of 
eloquence, though these were mostly comprised in 
terse epigrammatic expressions, the subject of the 
sermon being to a certain degree dogmatic, or, at all 
events, doctrinal. 

The large majority of the congregation remained to 
the Communion, and nearly all the choir partook. The 
appearance of the long line of surpliced communicants 


kneeling to receive the Elements at the hands of the 
Bishop and Chaplain was v^ry imposing indeed. A 
pianissimo voluntary was played during the whole time 
the congregation were communicating; or perhaps I 
rather ought to say half-a-dozen such voluntaries, for 
one did not by any means suffice for the very large 
number of communicants. The greater number were 
composed of the wealthier classes ; and, judging from 
externals, I should fancy the old precinct of the Savoy 
was slenderly represented. The worship, however, was 
one of the most beautiful specimens of the congrega- 
tional kind at which it was ever my good fortune to be 



"!I/|"Y church-going on the present occasion was a 
JJ_L chapter of accidents. In the first place I was 
misled by an evening paper announcing that the Arch- 
bishop of Dublin would preach on Baxter at St James's, 
Piccadilly, and., as I was particularly anxious to hear 
what his Grace would say on the subject of the ' Saint's 
Everlasting Rest' and its author, I plunged boldly 
through the rain and mud of an ungenial June in 
London, and arrived in Piccadilly just in time to be too 
late for the service; for I had chosen to jump to the 
conclusion that it began at half-past three, whereas the 
hour was three ; so that when I arrived I found, not 
the Archbishop of Dublin whose turn came the follow- 
ing Sunday but the Dean of Norwich, who was well 
into the second portion of his sermon by the time I 
stole furtively into the side door. When I glanced 
around on the huge congregation which filled the large 
church, I could not help thinking how times have 


changed, or rather we have changed in them, during 
the last few years. What would our good grandsires 
have said had they heard of vast congregations turning 
out of a Sunday afternoon to hear Dr Farrar preach on 
the ' De Imitatione Christi ' of a Kempis, or the Dean 
of St Paul's handle Pascal's ' Pensees/ and now, worse 
than all, Dean Goulburn treat on so purely Papistical a 
volume as the ' Vie Devote ' of St Francois de Sales ? 
Certainly the names of the preachers were sufficient 
guarantees that the subjects would be handled dis- 
creetly; but most assuredly pur Protestant ancestors 
would have been ready with the remark that you could 
not touch pitch without being defiled. We live in 
more liberal times, and adopt the sounder policy of 
extracting what is good from these works rejecting 
what is evil. But I am anticipating the preacher. 

The Dean of Norwich had, I was told, given out no 
text before his lecture or sermon I scarcelv know 


which to call it. The larger portion of the discourse 
was a criticism on the c Introduction a la Vie Devote/ 
and he had just reached, as I said, the second portion 
of the work when I arrived. However, he had to refer 
to the first part later on in his subject, so that I was 
able to supply the hiatus. 

The first part of the Introduction insisted on the 
necessity of formal dedication of self to God ; and then 
the work passed on to treat, in the second part, on the 
subject of reading the Bible. Strangely enough, how- 
ever, whilst it discussed at length how one ought to 
read the Bible, it did not give even the name of a single 
book of Scripture. He referred instead to Bonaventura, 
Augustine, Jerome, and the ' Lives of the Saints/ In 
this respect Bishop Taylor, in his ' Holy Living and 
Dying/ diifered entirely, so that this work might well 
be said to form a supplement to the ' Vie Devote.' Yet 
were certain parts of the work of ' Francis ' (it was so 
the Dean familiarly spoke of him) exceedingly beautiful. 
The chapter on Spiritual Recollection was simply 
f lovely/ It advocated daily retreats, saying that as 
the birds had their nests in the trees and the deer their 


quiet thickets, so the soul should retreat to Calvary. 
The method prescribed was, the Dean said, one of great 
practical value. The portion called the Spiritual Nose- 
gay was also highly praised, running to the effect that 
as, on entering a beautiful garden, one wanted to carry 
away three or four flowers, so the soul should select 
some three or four from among many truths for subse- 
quent refreshment. 

I was somewhat surprised to hear Dean Goulburn 
speak so highly as he did of this certainly florid style 
of moral theology. He thought this portion of the 
Introduction might well be extracted by some compe- 
tent writer, and an appendix added from his own hand 
filling up defects. He contrasted the system of Medita- 
tion with that of Bible-reading, greatly to the advantage 
of the former. Bible-reading had, he said, with Pro- 
testants, taken the place of Meditation, and too often 
consisted only of reading not, as the Collect said, of 
learning, marking, and inwardly digesting. 

The third and fourth portions formed really the body 
of the Introduction, and consisted severally of a treatise 
on the virtues and on temptation. The arrangement of 
the virtues, however, was not an orderly one, and was 
inferior to that of Bishop Taylor. He arranged them 
according to the text of Titus ii. 12, in the order of 
sobriety, justice, and religion. The noticeable defect 
in Francis was his silence as to faith. Roman moral 
theology made faith consist of a passive assent to 
certain doctrines, and therefore we had to go to the 
Apologetica, written against sceptics and atheists, before 
we found any express mention of faith. In other cases 
faith was presupposed. The Reformed Communions, 
on the contrary, believed that faith was more than a 
mere assent to doctrines, and was something that must 
stir the affections. Therefore the Reformed Divine 
could not ignore faith. Taylor gave a chapter on 
Faith, but even in his case if one might criticize so 
great a man the Dean thought the order should have 
been reversed and faith put first instead of last. Yet, 
on the other hand, all the virtues were not to be 


merged in faith. It was not to be in this respeet like 
Aaron's rod, which swallowed the rods of Jannes and 
Ja.mbres, and left no creature of its kind on the earth 
besides itself. Francis warned especially against a 
multiplicity of pursuits.- He suggested that we should 
select one or two virtues. Unity of effort, said Dean 
Groulburn, was essential to spiritual life. 

Preserving his critical style., the Dean next passed to 
the. fourth part, on the subject of Temptation, where he 
seemed to think St Francis was superior to the author 
of ' Holy Living.' Bishop Taylor, he said, rather over- 
looked the antagonistic side, and this involved a loss in 
Christian ethics. We wanted to practise, not merely to 
admire, the virtues ; and directly we did so we elicited 
the temptations of our own hearts, of the world around, 
and of a legion of evil spirits in arms against us. The 
Dean here referred to a very impressive sermon Bishop 
Bagot once preached in the Cathedral at Wells. It 
produced an immense effect by dwelling simply on the 
difficulty of being good. Everybody who heard it felt 
that it was difficult ; and the need of a treatise like that 
of Taylor or De Sales was not to hide difficulties, but 
to help the reader over them. The ' Tie Devote/ which 
in this respect resembled Seaports ' Spiritual Combat,' 
had fifteen chapters on the Antagonisms of the Christian 
Church ', but in this enumeration Francis passed from 
temptations strictly so-called to what we should term 
crosses and trials, such as barrenness and dryness. On 
this head Dr. Goulburn read a very striking passage 
where the author, deprecating* self- reprobation on the 
score of dryness, compared the soul to a rose, which, 
beautiful as it was when fresh, was even more fragrant 
when its leaves were dried and seemingly dead. 

The fifth and last part of the Introduction threw us 
back again on the first. It treated of the method of 
renewing our promises. As a clock required to be 
wound up twice a day (the mechanism of clocks, said 
the Dean parenthetically, had improved since the days 
of Francis), and had to be taken to pieces every year 
and its parts oiled, so was it with the soul. The simile 


was pursued into minute details, even so far as to make 
the oil stand for Confession and the Holy Eucharist. 
So there should be an annual retreat, in which the 
original protestation should be reconsidered. All this, 
be it remarked, presupposed the formal dedication of 
the soul to Grod. Thus, said the Dean, this beautiful 
work circled back to the source from whence it set out, 
like some noble river which, after meandering through 
a country, fell at last into the great abyss of the ocean. 
What, then, was the fundamental principle of this moral 
theology, the cell around which all else gathered ? What 
was the relation of this book to the Bible ? As art was 
but the application of some force to the purposes of life, 
so moral theology was only the adaptation of some 
power of Scripture. The great work of Scupoli, for 
instance, was an unfolding of that passage in the Epistle 
to the Ephesians, which spoke of spiritual antagonists 
and the panoply of Grod. The fundamental thought of 
Francis was more recondite ; but it was really an en- 
largement of the words of Christ f Come unto Me, all 
ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest/ So far the rest was given, not gained; but there 
was a second rest spoken of in the context which was 
gained, where it was said 'Take My yoke upon you, 

and learn of Me, &c and ye shall find rest unto 

your souls/ That this rest was an essential of the 
Christian life, and to be consummated only in Paradise, 
was the ever-recurrent thought in Francis. Unquietness 
was the greatest evil of the soul, and the spring of tempt- 
ations. The soul, in this respect, was like the bird 
entangled in a net, which involved itself the more in its 
very efforts to get loose. In worldly business there 
might be care, but there should not be solicitude ; just 
as the holy angels have avocations demanding care, yet 
their solicitude does not mar their repose. The rivers 
which glide through the fields bear great boats of 
merchandise, and the rain which falls gently fertilizes 
the country ; the tornado and the tempest were de- 

Ifc was evident from the way in which the Dean read 


his various extracts that' he was thoroughly penetrated 
with the beauties of his author; yet he did not shrink 
from adverse criticism of him. No doubt Francis had 
originated Quietism, which, fifty years afterwards, issued 
in Antinomianism. He caricatured the truth as to peace 
of mind. He said that the will should have no pursuit 
of its own, but be simply absorbed in the Divine will. 
1 Thy will be done ' was to drown every other note in 
the human diapason. His followers worked this vein of 
thought mischievously, until Madame Guyon shocked the 
moral sense. It seemed ungracious to criticize one 
whose spirituality was so great as that of Francis. One 
might use his own simile, and say that the hen who flies 
seldom could not criticize the gyrations of the eagle. 
But St Theresa's own ejaculation was here to the point, 
t All that is not of Gfod is nought/ So we said, in 
reading these saints, all that is not God's work has a 
flaw somewhere, and the authors would have been the 
first to acknowledge it themselves. Only the man who 
was sectarian, prone to theological commonplaces, or 
unused to spiritual emotions, could read this work with- 
out feeling his heart drawn out to the author and to 
desire for a devout life. 

The address was followed by the old Jewish benedic- 
tion, and it was only when we passed out into Piccadilly 
that I realized what a large congregation had been 
attracted by the Dean. I no longer felt aggrieved at 
having missed my Archbishop, for I had heard a very 
exceptional lecture, and could not but feel that the ex- 
periment of these special sermons at St James's had 
been eminently successful. I particularly noticed a 
very large number of clergymen, and one recently ap- 
pointed dignitary, among the congregation. 



HAVING made it my mission of late to hear and re- 
port the sermons of the Bishops during the London 
season, I found' myself n on plussed and my occupation 
for the moment gone by the occurrence of Trinity 
Sunday. Their lordships were, for the most part, en- 
gaged in ordinations; and I believe only one bishop 
preached in London or the suburbs namely, Dr Gregg, 
Bishop of Ossory, at St Augustine's, South Hackney. 

But with the commencement of the London season, 
the Rev. J. L. Lyne, better known as ' Father Ignatius, 
O.S.B., Monk of the Church of England/ generally 
leaves his seclusion in Wales, and preaches at St George's 
Hall, by way of recruiting the funds for his monastery. 
He began on a Thursday evening with an apotheosis of 
St Thomas a Becket, and the next day delivered an 
oration on Fashionable Society ; but Sunday afternoon 
was devoted to a service and sermon, the subject of the 
latter being advertised as ' Revivalism and the Upper 
Classes/ Mr Lyne is exceedingly clever in the choice 
of titles for his discourses, and this proved a very at- 
tractive one, for, by the hour appointed, a very large 
assemblage had gathered in the hall, though the reserved 
places cost five shillings and half-a-crown each, the un- 
reserved sixpence and a shilling. The proceeds, after 
deducting expenses, were to be devoted to c the Religious 
Works of the English Benedictine Order/ Besides 
being a phenomenon as a monk in the Church of Eng- 
land, this young clergyman (for Mr Lyne is in Deacon's 
orders) possesses powers of eloquence and undoubted 
earnestness which, are sure to secure a hearing even 
from those who do not sympathize with his peculiar 


On a green-baize-covered table in tlie centre of the 
stage stood a large crucifix wreathed with flowers ; and 
one of Mr Sankey's sacred solos was being sung behind 
the red curtain at the back in a melodious voice, which 
those of us who had heard him found no difficulty in 
recognizing as that of Father Ignatius himself. Mr 
Lyne does his own singing as well as preaching. There 
was a harmonium accompaniment, and a small chorus 
took up the burden of the hymn after each verse, but 
neither the instrument nor vocal adjuncts were at all 
equal to the solo. The harmonium was decidedly gusty, 
and only came in at fitful intervals not always at the 
right places either. There was by the time the hymn 
was over a decidedly large and influential gathering. 
One old lady sat quietly alongside me for a long time, 
and then suddenly, when she discovered the crucifix, 
got up and made a profound genuflexion to it. 

Presently Ignatius entered, in the black habit of his 
order, and bearing'a large Bible. Having knelt a short 
time at the table in silent prayer, he rose and said he 
had a particular favour to ask of his congregation. He 
was obliged to gather them in that hall because the 
Bishop of London, who was a good Christian man, and 
acted from a sense of duty, would not allow him to 
officiate in a church. In that same place Mr Voysey 
preached, and he denounced him as a public blasphemer. 
He would, therefore, ask those present to join him in 
reciting the Athanasian Creed, to counteract the devilish 
heresies of the man who blasphemed Christ. At this, 
as at the previous denunciation, there were loud hisses, 
and cries of 'No personalities I'' 'Bead the Creed!'' 
Mr Lyne, however, was quite equal to the occasion, and 
defended at once the Creed as being the inheritance of 
every Evangelical Christian, and his own words as to 
Mr Voysey 's public character on the grounds that Mr 
Yoysey himself would be ready to say that there was 
more that was wrong than right in the teachings of 
Christ. The Creed contained the common faith of Dis- 
senters as well as Churchmen, and was only unpopular 
because the so-called damnatory clauses were misunder- 


The Athanasian Creed was then chanted to the 5th 
Gregorian tone, only about twelve persons declining to 
stand up, as Mr Lyne requested those who did not like 
the Creed to sit quietly in their places. At its conclusion 
he took a seat in the centre of the stage with the large 
Bible on his knees, and the knotted cord which bound 
his waist dangling picturesquely at his side. He 
selected St John iv. 43, and subsequent verses, as the 
subject of what turned out to be rather a full exposition 
than a sermon in the ordinary acceptation of the term. 

Recurring to the episode of Christ's discourse with 
the Woman of Samaria, he pointed out the deep mean- 
ing involved in the comment of the Samaritans, ' We 
know that this is Christ the Saviour of the world.' It 
was miserable only to hope this, but there was something 
greater than hope there was knowledge. Mr Lyne has 
a strange penchant for calling everybody ' dear,' and he 
said, Dear St John had written this advisedly of the dear 
Samaritans. The word 'know' was a pet word with 
St John, just as St John was a pet disciple of Christ, and 
would not be allowed to fall into error. We might, be 
said, well plead guilty to a special love for the Gospel 
and Epistles of dear St John. After two days Jesus 
departed to Galilee, and that expression of time greatly 
attested the genuineness of St John's Gospel. If you 
were to ask Professor Jowett whether this Gospel was 
written by St John, he would hum and ha. But if he 
had any real English pluck he would speak out and say 
he did not believe it was written by the Evangelist 
whose name it bore. It was only on select occasions he 
spoke plainly, but was apt sometimes to make a lapsus 
linguae. He made a good many 'lapsus linguces' (sic) 
when he was preaching at St Lawrence, Jewry, last 
Passion tide. As for Mr Voysey, he was outside the 
pale_, for he did not pretend to be a Christian ; but it 
was unfortunate when Christians differed one from the 
other on dubious terms, while they held the funda- 
mentals of faith in common. It was one of the devil's 
delights to see them do so. Now that little expression, 
' after two days,' showed him this Gospel was the work 


of an eye-witness. If not, why was such a mark of time 
introduced ? It was only wasting" ink and time for a 
writer, a long while after the event, to introduce such. 
He himself had a habit, before he went to bed every night, 
to open the Bible at hap-hazard and read the seventh 
verse of the first chapter that met his eye, and to think 
over it before he went to sleep. One night, when he was 
ill, he asked a brother to open the Bible for him, and 
the seventh verse turned out to be all made up of long- 
names in one of the genealogies. ' You won't find much 
comfort in that, Father Ignatius, will you ? ' asked the 
brother. ' Yes I do/ he replied, ' because it is impossi- 
ble such a passage as that could be the invention of 
man/ These niinutias proved the verbal infallibility of 
the Bible. We owed a deep debt of gratitude to the 
Jews for the ' agonizing accuracy ' with which they had 
guarded this verbal infallibility. Reading next the nar- 
rative of the Nobleman's son healed by Christ, he took 
the word Galilee, and noticed that just as people asked 
how could any good thing come out of Galilee, so now they 
asked of Moody and Sankey. They called them fools. 
They said Sankey had come over to sell harmoniums, and 
why ? Only because, instead of singing ' beastly songs 
at the Alhambra or theatre/ he sang about Christ. The 
scientific men of the world did not believe, and they were 
miserable. Professor Tyndall would be glad to believe 
in Jesus Christ; and in the midst of the commotion 
caused by his miserable Belfast address, he had written 
to a friend, ' In my quietest moments I believe most/ 
This, continued Mr Lyne, was an electric-telegraph and 
first-class-express agej and yet he thanked God that 
there were noblemen and noblemen's sons now in Lon- 
don entering into the present revival quite as heartily as 
the middle and lower classes. Were there such present 
noblemen or noble- women anxious as this father was 
about one who was dear to them. ? Was there not many a 
mother anxious about a son ; many a gray-headed man 
whose face would turn ashy pale, and his hair seem to 
grow more gray still, if you mentioned his daughter ? 
She was sick with the unnamed disease which society 



dared not name. Such cases were continually being sent 
to him for prayer, and over and over again he had got 
letters saying that the son who was despaired of had been 
found in his bedroom praying. It was all right with 
him. He had come to himself. There was one young 
man this one did not belong to the upper classes, but 
to the noble working class, a fellow with a splendid arm. 
but a slave to drink. When he had thus been brought 
to Christ, he came and said, ' I have done with the 
drink. You told me I carried Christ in my heart now, 
and I tried to go into the public-house and couldn't. I 
hadn't the impudence to take Him in with me ! ' It was 
just as Monica won Augustine's soul. His mother's 
prayer won this young man. 

He had many and many stories like this one of the 
nobleman's son. Once when he was holding a mission 
in the North some Wesleyans came and asked his prayers 
for their daughter, whom the doctor pronounced to be 
dying, and she was mad with fright at the idea. He 
asked the people from the pulpit to pray for this dying 
girl that her end might be made peaceful. Two or three 
nights after, as the people were going out of church, the 
parents came again and cried out, ' A miracle ! the child 
has died, but oh so happily ! ' He called the people 
back again, and they all knelt down and thanked God 
for that miracle of peace. The great hindrance to 
revivals was that people did not believe in instantaneous 
salvation. But the dying man had only to look on the 
brazen serpent and there was life in the look. He did 
not slowly get better. He lived at once. 

Of this man, further, it was written, ' Himself believed 
and his whole house/ Such was often the case. He 
knew a dear lady who belonged to what was called a 
religious family, where there was plenty of bowing anol 
crossing among her husband and children. She came 
to his mission, and was derided by her husband as being 
a Calvinist. At length he consented, at her urgent 
request, to come too just, as he said, to be amused. 
Before that service was over he was kneeling by his 
wife's side on the altar step, making what might be 


called his first communion, full of the light of Jesus 

Jesus, he concluded, suited all classes. There were 
Saints of Caesar's household ; and this revival was shak- 
ing the whole of the Valley of Death. Jesus of Nazareth 
passed by, and that great necropolis, London, started 
into life. They were coming from the brothels and the 
public-houses, and sitting at the feet of Jesus. Some of 
those present had, he knew, been added that afternoon. 
He could see a different expression on their faces since 
they came in. These were signs of the Holy Spirit's 
work. They were additions to the family of the Living 
God. i 

While the collection was being made after the sermon, 
a mission hymn, ' Stand up, stand up, for Jesus/ was 
sung, followed by Mr Sankey's now celebrated 'Hold 
the Fort/ and a very large proportion remained for more 
private colloquy, after the fashion of Mr Moody's Inquiry 

Father Ignatius has unbounded admiration for the 
American evangelists. I am puzzled to know whether 
it is reciprocated, or whether the Benedictine garb is a 
stumbling-block in the path of common action between 
these men. 

On the occasion of his sermon on Fashionable Life, he 
prayed with much fervour, stating that he should be 
satisfied if only three souls were saved out of fashionable 
life. He then sat in the front of the stage, and read the 
2nd chapter of the First Epistle of St John, accompany- 
ing his reading with a running commentary, and remark- 
ing that the words had nothing to do with fashionable 
society, because they were addressed to children of 
God. Christians, he said, were fools in the 19th century 
as in the first; and then made a complimentary allusion 
to the success of Messrs Moody and Sankey. Thus do 
extremes often meet ! 

Passing imperceptibly to his oration, Father Ignatius 
said that fashionable society was made up of falsehood; 


deception, and absolute tomfoolery. It was popular to 
burlesque fashionable society, and he had a capital pic- 
ture from Punch in his pocket which showed how popu- 
lar it was to burlesque it. It was simply an assemblage 
of lunatics let loose. It was uncomfortably clothed. The 
ladies, for instance, had to wear clothes in which it was 
difficult to sit down ; and the costume which was only 
uncomfortable in the morning, was disgraceful in the 
evening. This description provoked roars of laughter, 
and Ignatius took that as an instance of the f lunatics 
let loose 3 laughing at themselves. It was a matter 
of business with the ladies to dress thus for the men. 
It was a mere ' fishing expedition/ Fashionable 
society, he said, was brutal to the weaker sex. It 
ruined a young girl, and then said it ' could not visit 
her ; ' then it handed over the poor wreck to the 
church. It was the same with the imitators of fashion- 
able society in the middle and lower classes. It entailed 
a shameful waste of life on the part of its votaries. The 
mother drove her daughter from pillar to post to get her 
married, and it was impossible to escape from such 
clutches. Summer was turned into winter, night into 
day. You are, he said, hurried from the bloom of nature 
in the country, and allowed to see it only in its decay. 
What a ridiculous position ! Punch or Judy would bring 
it home, but he wanted to go one step further. Are you 
satisfied, he asked, with the world and your place in it? 
Some were, he knew, but these were the people who 
were drawn by Jesus Christ out of this fashionable 
society. Their very life was peace. Why should not 
one heart, weary of earth and laden with sins, be won 
to-day by these words ? ' You long after God without 
knowing it, and now you are within reach of it. We 
come, let our light shine on you ! ' What will the world 
do, he continued, when you are on your death-bed? 
There is a worldling listening now, he said, who before 
this London season is out will be ' beneath the under- 
taker's hammer/ Instead of going to Norway for the 
fishing, such an one may have to stand before God. 
What have I to offer you ? Simply- Jesus Christ God's 


panacea for every possible ill. lam not a quack doctor, 
he pursued; I speak of what I know and have seen. 
People in multitudes have been brought in by our 
services. Then he went on to denounce others. St 
Andrew's, "Wells Street, he said, was one of the devil's 
places. There was plenty of lace on the altar, plenty of 
bowing and scraping. The devil was one of the most 
religious people in the London season, and there would 
soon have to be introduced into St Andrew's, Wells 
Street, Punch's patent chairs for ladies who could not 
sit. The clergymen at St Andrew's had no more right 
to give the Sacrament to the people there than to a pig 
not so much, because the pig had not a soul to be 
damned 1 Having demolished St Andrew's, he pro- 
ceeded, amidst applause, to denounce Dean Stanley and 
Professor Jowett, for speaking against whom he should 
like to go to prison j and I should think he was likely to 
be gratified, since he alluded to them as ' devil-possessed 
professors of fashionable religion/ And yet Ignatius 
would have us believe that he was ' no quack ' I He 
could give out whab he had gofc and, as far as I 
could gather, nobody had got it except himself. He 
wished he had a certain young nobleman on that plat- 
form, who had just come out of the darkness, so that he 
might tell them what he did (it was a pity Ignatius did 
not bring this sprig of nobility) ; but he drew a graphic 
picture of how he had become convinced he was an abode 
of demons. What was it ? Some people thought it was 
mesmerism. If so, it was a stronger mesmerism than 
any he knew. 

Such was the admirable mixture of rant and reality 
with which Father Ignatius regaled his fashionable 
audience, exhorting us to go home plus the Saviour, in- 
stead of minus. I should be curious to know whether 
the strangely high-spiced oration did really touch even 
three hearts of those present. 



rjlHERE can be little doubt that,, with. Moody-and-San- 
JL keyism on the one side, and Anglican Monasticism 
on the other, the elastic limits of our Established Church 
have lately been tried to their utmost ; for, whatever 
opinions may be held as to the edifying character of 
each or either of these influences, they mark extremes to 
which in our day and generation we have been unac- 
customed, but which no doubt the machinery of the new 
Public Worship Bill will keep well within bounds. There 
is, however, one ingenious gentleman who manages to 
combine both these extremes in his single self with re- 
markable dexterity I still mean the Rev. J. L. Lyne, 
who, as Father Ignatius, has made it his mission to revive 
Monasticism in the Church of England, and who pro- 
fesses unbounded admiration amid a considerable 
amount of the nil admirari in other respects for the 
character and work of the American evangelists. 

Father Ignatius concluded on a Sunday his summer 
campaign for 1875., during which he had been making 
strenuous efforts for the replenishment of his monastic 
coffers at Llanthony, the special object in view being to 
erect an altar of proper splendour in the Abbey Church 
' among the wild black mountains of South Wales/ 
The choir and chancel were built, and Father Ignatius 
wanted a shrine for perpetual intercession ; hence his 
visit to rich London at the height of the s'eason. 

On Thursday, July 1st, the day when the Public 
Worship Bill came into force, he commenced operations 
with an oration at St George's Hall on the doctrine of 
the real Presence in the Eucharist, the practical question 
debated being the attitude English Catholics should as- 
sume towards the new measure. On Friday, ' the Feast 


of the Visitation of the B. V. M./ he discussed Mariola- 
try at Westbourne Hall, and on the following Saturday 
he took what one may well regard as his typical subject, 
' Monks in the Church of England/ at the same place. 
He is singularly happy in his titles ; and devoted Sun- 
day afternoon at St George's Hall to the consideration 
of 'The Blind Man not of Jericho, but of London/ 
It is to the Saturday afternoon discourse I propose to 
give attention, as representing a phenomenon in the 
Church of England at the present time the practical 
reiutroduction of monkery into her system. 

Appearing, as usual, 'in the black habit of the Bene- 
dictiae Order, with tonsured head and sandalled feet, 
Father Ignatius, in his opening remarks, claimed' the 
subject as one interesting to Protestants as well as -to 
Catholics. Monasticism, he said, was necessary for sound 
life and morality in the National Church. He denned a 
Catholic as one who did not accept the Protestant Re 
formation, whether belonging to the Roman, Greek, or 
Anglican Communion, and read a series of extracts 
laudatory of Monasticism from a regular catena of non- 
Catholic writers, either Protestant or sceptical, including 
Gibbon, Voltaire, Guizot, Dugald Stewart, Leibnitz, 
ISTeander, Dr Maitland (' History of the Dark Ages '), 
and John Stuart Mill. All religions, he went on to say, 
were monastic, especially Buddhism, which held sway 
over nearly half the human race, more than all the dif- 
ferent bodies of Christendom put together. Could we, 
he asked, afford to pooh-pooh one half the human race 
by denouncing or decrying Monasticism ? When he 
himself appeared before the Court of Chancery in the 
matter of young Mr Todd, Vice- Chancellor Malms said 
it would never do for all the world to turn monks ; to 
which he replied that this was scarcely more likely than 
that all the world should turn vice-chancellors. Father 
Ignatius then read the 19th chapter of St Matthew, 
which he said was one of the sources from which they 
gathered the monastic idea ; and he made his audience 
(which, by the way, was not very numerous) laugh by the 
manner in which he contrasted the care shown in as- 


sumiug the monastic vow, with the precipitation with 
which young men and women assumed the life-vows of 
matrimony. There was no novitiate of a year in the lat- 
ter, but you plumped into it head over heels once for all, 
and for life. He concluded this introductory portion, 
which might with advantage have been incorporated in 
his subsequent address, by telling the story of a young 
man of nineteen, who on Friday evening had come to 
him and declared that he felt a vocation for the monastic 
life, while his parents were only too rejoiced at the course 
he had taken. This attitude he contrasted with that 
assumed towards him by the Protestant Alliance. 

Then he came to the main address, the subject of 
which he thus subdivided : 1. What is a monk ? 2. 
What is the Church of England ? ,3. Is there anything 
inconsistent with Monasticism in that Church ? The 
word ' monk } itself simply meant ' solitary/ There 
were, he said, different gifts ; and it was idle to suppose 
that they were each absorbed in any one person. ' How 
ugly your face would look if it were all nose ! ' he added 
by way of illustration. So, again, it would fare ill with 
the Church if all were evangelists. The monk separated 
himself from the world to live a life of prayer and praise. 
Who would say that such a life was useless ? Scripture 
contained many monastic passages, as, for instance, where 
prayer seven times a day was spoken of, where the 
Psalmist said, early he would direct his prayer to God, 
&c. In the world there was little time for frequent 
prayer ; therefore God called some to devote themselves 
to a life of perpetual intercession. Supposing twelve 
men took a house for this purpose, could you say that 
they were leading a wrong life ? However you might 
appreciate an active existence, you would be disposed to 
pray for a blessing on such a work. Those men would 
be like Moses, Aaron, and Hur on the mountain. It was 
they who won the battle more than those who were 
fighting down below. So the monk never left off his 
intercession ' until the sun went down/ Apart from the 
ornaments of Catholicism no one could have any objec- 
tion to such a system. The Christian monk differed 


widely in this respect from the Buddhist. The work of 
the latter was selfish. By contemplative life he sought 
to realize the nirwana the ideal state of perfection in 
himself only. So, said Father Ignatius, there are some 
' dear Christians } who say we can be perfect now. ' I 
believe that when this is the case probation over. 
The work of sanctification is a gradual one throughout 
life, and the monk devotes his life not to personal per- 
fection, but to Christ, who is all in all. He offers his 
life to Christ. Montalembert showed how this was true 
in history ; how the monks were the great barriers 
against barbarism ; and it was the blood of a monk that 
brought about Magna Charta/ 

2. In the second place, what, he asked, was the 
Church of England ? If it were only created by Act of 
Parliament in the Reign of Henry VIII., then he con- 
ceded it had no place for Monasticisin. But the Church 
of England was established by the Apostles themselves. 
It was the only representative of the Universal Church 
in this country. Its history went back to the first 
Christian century. Five hundred years before Augustine 
the British Church was flourishing. SS. Clement and 
Irenseus bore testimony to its antiquity, and Bishops of 
London, Colchester, and York sat in a council a century 
before good Pope Gregory sent over Augustine. Had 
she then possessed monastic institutions? In the fifth 
century Pelagius said that there were in the Church of 
England ten thousand monks, and they were as strong 
in their repudiation of the Roman. claims of Augustine 
as the Protestant of to-day could be. They were not 
Romanist or Popish then. But, then, they were done 
away with at the Reformation. That was what that 
' dear good Christian/ the Bishop of London, had said 
to Father Ignatius himself. But his lordship forgot 
history. The Church of England never did away with 
monasteries the King did, for political and egotistical 
purposes ; and when the Church of England mouks 
offered to give up the Papal supremacy he refused their 
offer, because they would not accept his supremacy 
instead, knowing that to do so would only be to go out 


of the frying-pan into the fire. Henry VIII. simply 
said, he would have the Bill or their heads, and they 
' very naturally ' preferred the former. It was simply 
a.n historical blunder on the part of that good Christian, 
the Bishop of London. Wolsey did away with the 
system, and the fate of those who shared, in the spolia- 
tion might be read in Spelman's c History of Sacrilege/ 

3. It was high time, then, that the life of prayer 
should be rehabilitated in our midst. He recurred 
once more to those Protestant testimonials as to the 
pure life of the monasteries, and asked was there ever 
a greater age of shams especially religious shams 
than at present ? It was not long ago, said Father 
Ignatius, ' that a friend of mine, who is an atheist, said : 
" The fundamental principle of your Christianity is that 
a man shall give up all he has and follow Christ. Can 
you point me out one Christian who does this ? Can 
you picture a Lord Chancellor giving up all he possesses ? 
No, you are behind the time. You cannot show me one 
such practical Christian not one." ' Then it was com- 
mon to point to the abolition of monasteries in Spain 
and Italy ; but it was not Christianity that was doing 
away with them. When the sacrilegious state of things 
was over, then the monasteries would be restored, as they 
had been in France. 1 1 am not speaking of what I do 
not know/ said the Anglican monk, ' I am speaking the 
thoughts of twenty years, during which I have stood 
alone contending for this principle/ Here followed a 
tremendous burst of applause, and Ignatius thanked his 
audience for that mark of sympathy, and said all we 
needed was to bring common sense to bear on the subject. 

Finally he asked his hearers what they were indi- 
vidually doing, what proofs they were giving of their 
Christianity. Except they left all and followed Christ 
they could not be His disciples. That maxim was 
literally exemplified in the monk's life ; but it should be 
illustrated in a degree by the life of every Christian. 
He particularly exhorted Christian preachers to speak 
thus to their congregations, and not to pander in their 
sermons to men's feelings. ' Let men's feelings go to 


the devil, whence they came/ was the alternative sug- 
gested by this remarkably plain-spoken orator. 

He then urged his special request for the Altar of 
Perpetual Intercession, and pictured the prayer of the 
watcher before the shrine at Llanthony even then going 
up on behalf of those to whom he was speaking. From 
five in the morning till ten at night prayer was now 
offered at that altar, and, as their numbers increased, 
they hoped to continue the prayer throughout the night. 

The collection was then made while a hymn was sung, 
Father Ignatius extemporizing solo verses much after 
the manner of Mr Sankey ; but I scarcely think the offer- 
ings of the Westbourne Hall people bore any proportion 
to those which the American evangelists have got from 
the British public. 


FOE. those antitypical Athenians of the nineteenth 
century who would fain ' spend their time in nothing 
else but either to tell or to hear some new thing/ it is a 
good deal to be able to say that at the Church of St James, 
Westmoreland Street, Marylebone, of which the Rev. 
H. R. Haweis is incumbent, they will be sure to find 
originality, and very likely to hear some novelty in the 
pulpit. A long pursuit of different J doxies has, I con- 
fess, ingrained in my being this hunger and thirst for 
something new ; and, though I had no e commission ' on 
hand at the time for was not I absorbed in the study 
of Heterodoxy ? I repaired to the orthodox confines of 
St James's on a certain Sunday morning, among other 
reasons in order to refresh my mind, wearied by long 
experience of heresies, with something which, while it 
was orthodox, should not be uninteresting, and which, 


so I hoped, while delivered within the walls of an 
Established Church of England, should be free from, 
that condition of stagnation which, rightly or wrongly, 
the enemies of Establishments declare to be of their very 
essence. The present paper is to describe how I fared, 
and what measure of success or failure resulted from my 
experiment on the occasion in question. 

One remarkably convenient arrangement at St James's 
for those who, like myself, consider early rising a heresy, 
is that a break is made between morning prayers and 
the Communion Service, in which latter, of course, occurs 
the sermon. 

From the number of people sunning themselves on 
the flagstones that Sunday morning I should gather that 
early rising is not considered a cardinal virtue by Mr 
Haweis's congregation. I thought I would go in and 
hear the fag end of the prayers, which, with their choral 
' arnens/ sounded musically outside ; but the gorgeous 
beadle, who is an old friend of mine, and who was con- 
templating his al fresco congregation with much satis- 
faction, said, like Baily junior, ominously, f Don't/ 
adding, for my private gratification, that the thermome- 
ter was sixty-four degrees in the gallery. 

When I did get in I found the surpliced choir singing 
an anthem, which was judiciously made to take the place 
of the Litany; and I could not help thinking that I 
should have preferred even a ' dim religious light ' to the 
heat of two large sunburners that were flaring fiercely 
down upon our devoted heads ; but Mr Haweis evidently 
goes in for material as well as spiritual light at St 
James's, and he certainly gave us lots of both on the 
morning of which I write. The only symptom of gloom 
I discovered was in the retention of the old-fashioned 
Geneva gown in the pulpit, in place of the now almost 
universally adopted surplice ; but I fancy Mr Haweis 
would be anything rather than ' High ; ' and possibly 
the Episcopal sanction lately conferred on what was 
once considered ' a rag of Popery ' in the pulpit has not 
so much value in his estimation as it has with some of us. 

Mounting the pulpit, then, thus attired, and without 


enunciating any text, Mr Haweis began by speaking of 
the general indifference to sermons, the discrepancy 
between the clerical and lay platform, and trivialities of 
the clerical and clerical -lay mind. The acme of narrow- 
ness was attained, he said, by the ' theological laymen/ 
But the evil went even deeper than this. The clergy 
and religious people were not quick to discover where 
secular controversies impinged upon the religious life. 
' What can discussions on protoplasm and the origin of 
life, for instance, have to do,' they asked, ' with religion ? ' 
Unless the clergy could prove that convictions about 
these matters were connected in some way with religion 
and morals, they would have no right to introduce 
philosophy or science into the pulpit. He had, on the 
previous Sunday, been speaking of the mind and the 
body. Now, the anatomist said that soul was nothing 
but a product of matter and force. This assertion at 
once defined the plane on which the men of science were 
working, and served to reveal the flaw in their argument. 
They said that the dissolution of the body involved the 
extinction of consciousness. This was Dr Buchner's 
assertion. But before you claim to have proved the 
dissolution of soul together with body you would have 
to show the links in the chain connecting the two to 
prove that they are essentially, not accidentally, connected 
you cannot ; you must show the passage from one to 
the other it is unthinkable; you must show that the 
one can be converted into the other you cannot. There 
is no really material equivalent for thought it is a 
matter and force and something more therefore, he said, 
' the physiological argument, as I showed last Sunday, 
leaves the other arguments for the soul where they were 
before ; of course, it does not prove its independent ex- 
istence, but it cannot prove its essential dependence 
upon the body that now is/ 

I will now speak (1) of The Tyranny of Matter ; (2) 
The Supremacy of Mind ; and show how these subjects 
have to do with the religious life. 

1. People used to underrate the dominion of matter. 
This was due to their ignorance of physiology. We, by a 


natural reaction, were disposed to overrate it. For 
instance, as our knowledge of physiology increased, we 
should deal differently with our criminals. We should 
cease attacking mere effects, and go "back to the pre- 
ventable causes. The criminal population was created 
in part by ignorance of natural laws. Many of them 
were the victims of circumstances, and had never had a 
chance. Open these people's skulls and you would find 
a low development. What made the criminal popula- 
tion ? Over-crowding, want of education, disease, want 
of religion. Modern civilization was to blame for this, 
we were to blame. We ought to support schools and 
sanitary reform and emigration, and members of Parlia- 
ment who tried to remedy the present disastrous social 
conditions. When we reformed a bad man or a bad 
woman we did not stop with them, but we helped them 
to transmit healthier systems, sounder brains, and 
better habits to their children ; and actually enabled 
them, through matter, to develop that which had supre- 
macy over matter ! 

.'t;.In some respects, Mr Haweis said, the American 
judges were better than the English from their quick- 
ness in catching up new legislative principles. In 
England there was an abnormal opposition to new ex- 
periences and new forms of truth. Even if we admitted 
the new form, we kept it rigidly apart from the old. 
f Judge-made law ' treats a man as a felon even if insane, 
when he commits a crime knowing it to be a crime ; 
whereas Dr Maudsley said if an American judge had 
to pronounce upon the same case, he would recognize a 
defect of cerebral development, as influencing will- 
power, and capacity for right action*, even when know- 
ledge was there. By and by we should learn to treat 
our criminals, partly as criminals of course, but partly 
also as diseased ; and, still more, we should prevent 
their coming into existence by improving the race, pro- 
tecting the children, and controlling the parents. 

So, too, with regard to social life. We never dreamed 
of noticing physiological laws in marriage. It never 
occurred to us that we were to a great extent responsible 


for whom we fell in love with ! But we were equally 
responsible for that which was called the impulsive part 
of our lives ; and people ought to look before they leapt. 
And after marriage, we were responsible for the families 
we brought up. It was a subject ignored in sermons 
and books, but we ought to exercise self-control, and 
not sin against physiological laws of health. As to the 
one excess of intemperance, for instance, it had been 
proved that five different kinds of transmitted insanity 
were the direct result of drunkenness in married men. 
The children and grandchildren bore the stripes. The 
fathers ate the sour grapes the children's teeth were 
set on edge. 

Still, pursued this most original of preachers, I know 
you won't do as I tell you. You will go and fall in love, 
anywhere, anyhow. Self and the moment will ivin ! You 
will then get married to the wrong people. You will do 
it. This makes the despair of legislation. You will go 
on ruining yourself, and blighting posterity for time and 
eternity, because you marry wildly wrong, and when 
you are married decline to study and obey healthy 

2. Walking up and down his capacious and almost 
Spurgeonic pulpit, Mr Haweis said he would next con- 
sider the supremacy of the mind. Some said the will 
was not free ; but after all the will was simply a func- 
tion of the intelligence. Healthy intelligence turned 
on the state of the brain, and I don't assume that any 
of you are mad, he said, but all have some little taint. 
I address you as sane, just as I claim the prerogative of 
sanity myself. Still all are a little touched. Body and 
mind' were mixed up, he said, and to understand either, 
we must understand both. Now we have the power of 
directing our thoughts ; if by acting on the body we 
could stimulate thought, so surely by acting through 
the mind by an exercise of will-power we could readily 
direct a nerve-current here or there, and make an 
arbitrary resolve and act upon it; therefore the will was 
practically free. Well, it was the development of these 
nerve -currents for which we were responsible if sane ; 


even though born with an insane or unbalanced nature, 
we might control, regulate, perhaps cure it. Lamb's 
sister knew when the next fit was coming on, and put 
herself under restraint. So sane people could deal with 
themselves, if they knew what they were made of. 

The lessons of modern physiology were invaluable 
for easing the friction of social life, family feuds, ill- 
temper, &c. 

What makes such misery as being quarrelsome and 
cantankerous ? he asked. A husband bad luck to Imn ! 
had nothing to do all day long, and so constituted 
himself a domestic nuisance. Conditions were against 
him. Another got depressed from over-work or tem- 
porary annoyance. If we understood the physiology of 
the brain we should say, 'If I stop at home I shall 
wrangle. I'll go for a walk and come home and then 
make it up ! ' People wouldn't recommence quarrels 
the next morning if they knew what their brains were 
made of. They wouldn't be such fools. 

I am afraid people smiled at some of these remarks. 
I heard a young lady near me sniggle and say, c Pa ! 3 
when the idle gentleman was alluded to. Altogether, 
it put me rather in mind of a saying attributed to an 
eminent Broad Church clergyman, but which I do not 
believe he ever uttered 'Hang theology !' We have 
a good many Churches now-a-days High Church, 
Low Church, Broad Church some add Fast Church. 
It has been reserved for Mr Haweis to inaugurate 
Physical Church. Perhaps he will bear us back by a 
circuitous route to Thales of Miletus and his Physical 
School of Philosophy again. Truly quot homines, tot 
sentential ! 



IF there is one qualification which the British Public 
appreciates more than another in the pulpit it is 
pluck; and certainly Mr Haweis is the pluckiest of 
London preachers. Not only does he advance the most 
tremendous theories as, for instance, that of the mag- 
netic character of the sacraments but on the occasion 
referred to in the present chapter, he solved the question 
of preaching or rather of lecturing in chapels by 
simply doing it. The Bishop, it was whispered, offered 
a remonstrance, but in vain. 

The occasion was the first of a series of ' Sunday 
Evenings for the People/ at South Place Institute, Pins- 
bury, and Mr Haweis was announced to lecture on ' The 
Use and Abuse of Emotion/ The gathering was pro- 
moted by the National Sunday League, and the building 
was crowded, a charge of threepence, sixpence, and one 
shilling being made for admission. It having become 
known that some correspondence had taken place 
between the Bishop of London and Mr Haweis as to his 
appearing, considerable interest was excited, especially 
as he was the first clergyman in the Church of England 
who had publicly appeared on an occasion of this descrip- 
tion upon the platform of the Sunday League. South 
Place Institute is a building in which Theistic services 
are regularly held under the direction of Mr Moncure 
D. Conway, and from what can be gathered consider- 
able reticence being exhibited in reference to the matter 
the Bishop of London, on hearing that Mr Haweis 
proposed to deliver a lecture under the circumstances 
described, wrote a letter of remonstrance to him, and 
expressed a strong hope that he would alter his determin- 
ation. A correspondence ensued which was considered 



to be of a private character, but in the end Mr Haweis 
was able to write to the Secretary of the Sunday League 
informing him that the difficulty had been overcome, 
that the Bishop had withdrawn, and liad ( practically ' 
left him in a position to fulfil his promise. Throughout 
the evening no public allusion was made to the subject. 

Mr Haweis' s very characteristic address was delivered, 
without notes, as follows : 

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am delighted to come here 
to-night and to address you at your own invitation. I 
believe that nothing but good can come of meetings of 
this kind. I say, throw open the gates, let the people 
come in ; let every one who aims at self-improvement 
come and find it on this day the only day that many of 
you have to spare for reflection or culture of any kind : 

' Let knowledge grow from more to more, 
But more of reverence in us dwell.' 

(Reverence, that is, for all that is worth reverence.) 

' That heart and mind, according well, 
May make one music as before, 
But vaster.' 

Now, I have undertaken to address you to-night on 
the ' Use and Abuse of Emotion ; ' but you must pardon 
me if I leave the ' abuse ' of emotion very much to your 
own imagination. 

A great deal has been said against emotion and 
enthusiasm generally its danger, its futility, its 
weakness, its want of manliness, and so forth. But 
after all, some kind of feeling must underlie every 
moment of life. Emotion in some shape is co-extensive 
with intelligent being. Your life is made up of in- 
telligence and emotion. The more thought and feeling 
you can make room for, the richer you are. The use 
and abuse of thought would be a grand topic, but I 
confine myself to-night to the use and abuse of emotion. 

What is emotion ? Physically it is accompanied, 
some would say caused, by the quickened pulse, the 
rapid motion of brain- molecules, and the consequent 
disturbance and spread of nerve-currents. Thus it 


has its sensational side. But it is more than sensa- 
tion. Distinguish between sensation and emotion. 
If you knock a man down he feels an unpleasant 
sensation ; he brings his thought to bear on that 
sensation, and the emotion of anger is the result 
that may possibly culminate in the action of knocking 
you down ; hence more sensation, followed by reflec- 
tion on your part, emotion of anger, action and so on 
over again. 

You perceive then, that emotion demands the union 
of thought and feeling, or, as Tennyson has it 

' Heart and mind according well. 3 

Now, the great secret of a worthy life is to have the 
emotions well in hand, and to make them do honourable 
work ; for if you do not make your emotions do honour- 
able work, they will be sure to degrade you. Some- 
thing the heart must have to grind, and if you will not 
give it good grain, it will grind chaff. In view of these 
remarks, all sneering at emotion and enthusiasm 
which is one manifestation of it, is seen to be irrelevant. 
A short time ago I happened to read in a superfine 
paper in an article by one of those persons who know 
every one's business better than their own, and who 
look down with a lofty contempt upon all modes of 
thought and feeling unintelligible to them this ex- 
pression, ' Fraud, nonsense, and enthusiasm.' The 
three were classed together as a matter of course. 
Well, my common sense revolted against that. I said, 
either this writer is merely showing off and does not 
believe what he says in which case he is guilty of 
fraud or he can have no knowledge of his subject, 
and is probably talking nonsense or he is certainly a 
little heated, and has allowed his feelings to run away 
with him ; in that case he is the prey of a not very 
respectable enthusiasm. It is even possible that he 
himself may be ' a shocking example of the frightful 
effects 3 of the very fraud, nonsense, and enthusiasm 
which he so bitterly condemns. People blessed or 
unblessed with certain temperaments are apt to con- 


demn enthusiasm, but they perhaps forget that no good 
work has ever been done without enthusiasm at the 
bottom of it. The great heroes of the world have been 
men capable of being lifted up with high and holy- 
enthusiasm. But emotion generally, and enthusiasm 
in particular, has got a bad name for several reasons : 
First, because feeling very often stands alone, and then 
it is not respectable ; feeling is only respectable when 
it nerves us for action. Here is a man who . has all 
sorts of fine feelings. But we watch his life, and we 
see nothing comes of them. Then we distrust him. 
A person meets you unexpectedly in the street. He 
is very gashing*. He says, ' Oh ! how long it is since 
we met ! I am delighted to see you, my dear old 
friend ; you know we were schoolfellows together/ 
He shakes you warmly by the hand, and continues 
' I never had such a friend as you, and although I have 
not come to see you for a long time, I love you like a 
brother/ You say ' Oh, do you? Lend me five 
pounds/ If you had shot him he could not look more 
struck. He changes colour, and stammers out 'I I 
don't happen to have five pounds about me just now/ 
The fact is, his heart is in the right place, but his purse 
is in a very different quarter. Now we don't consider 
that man's feelings respectable, for when the oppor- 
tunity for acting upon it comes, he cannot find in his 
emotion the spur or stimulus for generosity. If you 
happen to want a little money you will soon find out 
whether or not you have a friend in the world. 

Again, feeling maybe in excess; some people, not 
perhaps of the male sex, are always in floods of tears. 
Of course this answers very well at first, but when 
it has been repeated too often it is very apt to lose 
its effect. By and by the tears flow unregarded, we 
know how little they mean, for what trivial or unworthy 
purposes they are used. Their excess paralyzes their 
effectiveness. The weeper wears out her welcome, and 
at last, like the lady in Dickens, she may go home in a 
flood of tears and a sedan-chair, and nobody will much 
mind. Then there is what I may call the Pecksnifnan 


form of emotion ; there are men apparently overpowered 
by a deep sense of moral responsibility ; they are always 
talking about the great duties they owe to society, but 
unfortunately they never discharge any of them ; in 
short, said Dickens, they are like sign-posts always 
showing the way and never going. 

Well; now, when emotion comes before us in the 
shape of enthusiasm, or any other strong feeling, we are 
bound to ask in the interests of decency and common 
sense, Does it stand alone ? Is it mere gush, or is it 
ready to be backed by a five-pound note ? Is it merely 
floods of tears ? Is it weak silly maunder ? When a man 
who has had a little too much goes about shaking hands 
with everybody and asking them to dine with him every 
day of the week, what do we say ? Why we say, Go home, 
my friend, and get sober, and we will talk to you an- 
other day. Or is it Pecksniff? Well then, we say at 
once this man is a humbug, take him away, put him 
somewhere, don't bring him amongst respectable people ; 
the world has much work to do, and we have no time 
for this vapouring and silly fellow. Do you not see then 
why emotion has got a bad name in the world ? It is 
condemned, not because of its use, but because of its 
abuse. Remember then emotion demands the union of 
thought and feeling j it is raised,, it should be controlled 
by intelligence ; it involves a reflex action of the mind ; 
it is not a mere sensation as when a man feels pain, it 
is the mind working upon a sensation. But in order 
that emotion may be respectable, not to say useful, or 
even sublime, it must satisfy conditions. 

First. Emotion must be true. 

Secondly. Emotion must be balanced and correlated 
with our other faculties. 

Thirdly. Emotion must be dignified, that is, it must 
be devoted to some worthy object. 

Fourthly. It must bring forth the fruit of noble 
action, it must be guided into right channels, it must 
set in motion useful machinery, it must do honourable 

Then consider what a power it becomes in the world, 


how it touches everything from the least to the greatest. 
There is not an act, not a thought, hardly an inflection 
of the voice, unaffected by it. Are not the orator's 
words weighted with emotion ? Do we not feel at times 
how a passionate utterance will flow over a crowd, melt, 
animate, subdue, or rouse people to the wildest activity, 
and nerve them for reckless or indomitable action ? 
And it is the manner far more than the matter ; one man 
may read a sublime speech or poem, but if he betray no 
emotion it will fall dead, while but a few simple words 
uttered by another will thrill through and through you ; 
you may have often experienced this in the case of a 
great actor, his lowest whisper has done what the mis- 
placed passionless rant of another failed to accomplish. 
I will repeat to you a passage first with the right 
emotion as well as I can, and then I will rob it of its 
emotion, and leave you to draw your own conclusions. 
Let me take that pathetic address to death and the land 
beyond the grave, in Longfellow. The poet breaks 
forth, feeling his soul troubled, feeling the pressure of 
the pain and sorrow of the world, and sighing for the 
peacefulness of death and the land where all things are 
forgotten : 

' Oh, land ! oh, land ! for all the broken-hearted : 
The mildest herald by our fate allotted, 
Beckons, and, with inverted torch, doth stand 
To lead us with a gentle hand 
Into the land of the great departed, 
Into the silent land ! ' 

Now hear it another way. 

(The lecturer then read the same lines in a light and 
jerky style with highly inappropriate action.) 

I have simply withdrawn the emotion, and you burst 
out laughing ! So you see how emotion takes hold of 
the mind winds it up and lets it down. The same 
thing is noticeable in music in painting nay, even in 
atmospheric effects of outward nature. As when on 
some co]d day you go out and look abroad upon woods 
and fields, life seems cheerless. ' What a dreary, chilly 
day/ you exclaim ; but suddenly the leaden sky is rifted, 


the sun bursts forth, and brings a glory upon field and 
woodland : a thrill of emotion strikes through you, and 
the dreary feeling vanishes ! So emotion in a thousand 
ways shines out and illuminates the landscape of life at 
all points. Or let us put emotional power in another 
way. Look at a steam-engine with all its wheels, 
cranks, and pipes. It seems a huge mass of lifeless 
iron, and might be supposed, if seen only at rest, to be 
absolutely useless. All this mighty mechanism wants 
something. What is it? Steam. If you put in the 
steam, you will see the wheels begin to turn, and at last 
the steam will be fully got up, and the engine will speed 
away with an express train. What has been done? 
You have supplied the motive power. Steam is the 
engine's emotion. And, if we want to get men to work, 
we must put steam into them ; we must kindle up 
emotion, and then they will begin to go. Every great 
man has had this power of concentrated steam in him 
this emotion bottled up ; and because he has had it 
properly under control he has been able to do great 

Would America have ever been discovered if it had 
not been for emotion ? Think of the enthusiasm of 
Columbus, think of the stupidity and apathy with which 
he had to contend. Think of him burning with the 
thought of this undiscovered land, until at last, in his 
little boat steering in mid ocean, he finds this new 
world. Ay ! at the very moment when the hearts of all 
his fellow- mariners failed them the land hove in sight, 
and the enthusiasm of Columbus was crowned with an 
immortal discovery ! 

Or think of Wilberforce warring against the great 
selfishness of our country until he had called up an 
opposing force of sympathy, which ended in the sup- 
pression of the slave trade. So that through an emotion 
I do not deny that duty came into play, but a know- 
ledge of duty unbacked by feeling is very inoperative 
this man communicated his feelings to the whole country 
until greedy money-loving men were willing to give up 
their incomes in the Indies and become comparatively 


poor men for tlie sake of an idea, in order to put down 
the abominable slave trade in the British dominions. 
That was the work of Wilberforce. There was not 
much fraud, nonsense, or misplaced enthusiasm about 

And if you look back on the great work of Cobden, 
Bright, and other reformers, think how they were in the 
same manner buoyed up through evil report and good 
report. Why, there is not a political measure of any 
importance which does not necessarily involve a vast 
play of emotion before it can be carried. Think within 
our own time of the repeal of the corn laws, the whole 
code of our modern sanitary legislation, the improve- 
ments in prison discipline, the extension of the franchise 
think of the kind of opposition and the kind of triumph 
which has attended the long-sustained efforts of Mr 
Gladstone^ administration. It is to the exercise of a 
noble enthusiasm that we owe a long list of brilliant 
and salutary reforms, amongst them that great and 
courageous measure of justice to Ireland the Dis- 
establishment of the Irish Church. And notwith- 
standing his temporary withdrawal, I trust that we 
shall owe a great many more good measures to Mr 
Gladstone before he retires altogether from public life. 

And quite lately we have seen an example of singular 
elevation and purity of feeling in the person of Bishop 
Colenso. We have seen a man come over here, already 
suffering under a social ban through the fearless nobility 
with which he expressed opinions distasteful to a section 
of the religious world we have seen him, already 
weighted heavily with years of unpopularity, yet willing 
to throw away in a moment the little remnant of com- 
fort and social ease he might have enjoyed out in that 
foreign land for an idea, a great idea of justice justice 
to Langalabalele ! Who cared for Langalabalele out in 
the colony where Bishop Colenso has to live ? The 
cause of the natives is always unpopular there, but the 
Bishop knew he had to stand alone and fight prejudice 
and injustice single-handed, ay, and win too. Who 
knew anything about Langalabalele over here ? Well, 


we know a good deal now, thanks to the Bishop. We 
know that England was committing an unjust act in her 
colonies when the Bishop of Natal got the ear of our 
Foreign Minister, and opened his eyes. And through 
evil report and good report did this Christian Bishop 
persevere until he had kindled up an interest in that- 
poor savage chief; nor did he return until he had got 
justice done : and will any one say that he was through- 
out this thankless work sustained by anything but the 
noblest religious enthusiasm ? 

But I will take another labourer in a widely different 
sphere, who was equally supported by a concentrated 
life-long enthusiasm for the good of his fellow-men, and 
the general advancement of civilization. I allude to 
that great and patient servant of God, whose labours 
lay in the same far-off land David Livingstone whose 
heart lies in Africa, but whose toilworn body reposes in 
Westminster Abbey. What buoyed up that noble ex- 
plorer but the power of a double enthusiasm an 
enthusiasm for science, but, far more, an enthusiasm for 
philanthropy ? For science, because Livingstone wanted 
to settle the vexed problem of the sources of the Nile ; 
for philanthropy, because he wanted to open up that 
fair land to European influence, and free it from the 
curse of the slave trade. The terrible revelations he 
has made will, I trust, go far to rouse English feeling 
in the direction of African reform. In facfc, you, know 
how Mr Stanley has gone out as leader of a joint 
English and American expedition to complete the work 
Livingstone began. None can have read Livingstone's 
last journals without being struck by those dreadful 
pictures of slavery that kindled his deepest emotion. 
He frequently saw hordes of slaves driven by their 
masters cruelly, and when they could go no farther they 
were tied to a tree and left to die, or their brains were 
knocked out on the spot. Children were torn from 
their parents, wives from their husbands ; their suffer- 
ings from fatigue and hunger were frightful; the 
tortures inflicted on them terrible. All this Livingstone 
was obliged to look upon ; he could do nothing, except 


give his own life for these poor Africans in an attempt 
to open up their country and heal their grievances. 
Eight and left he tried to make the natives see that 
their country was being depopulated, that all progress 
in wellbeing would be denied to Africa so long as the 
slave trade continued to flourish. What he underwent 
in this crusade it is difficult for us to realize. There is 
a picture outside the book which fitly sums up in an 
image Livingstone's indomitable pluck. It represents 
him wading, no doubt in one of the last stages of his 
illness, through one of those dismal swamps which he 
had so often to cross, now struggling through up to his 
chin, now borne on stalwart African shoulders with 
his legs straight out before him skimming along the 
surface, whilst the others followed him, bearing his pre- 
cious provisions and trading bales of beads and cloth. 

As we follow with bated breath his noble and simple 
narrative to its sublime and melancholy close, its great 
calmness and peacefulness win us. Those who think 
that enthusiasm must be noisy, let them study Living- 
stone. He stands up against adversity like a rock, his 
will is indomitable, his resources infinitely fertile, his 
enthusiasm unflagging ; but not a boast, and hardly a 
murmur, escapes his lips from first to last. 

His greatest discoveries are chronicled with the same 
simple brevity which characterizes the daily incidents of 
his journey ; nay, some of those incidents, such as the 
loss of his poor little dog Chitane, who swam till he sank 
trying to follow his master, seem to have affected him 
more deeply than greater disasters. His own privations 
are made light of ' took up my belt in three holes be- 
cause of hunger/ c This last journey has turned all my 
hair gray/ After more than usual treachery and idle- 
ness amongst his men, he makes all sorts of excuses for 
them, and says meekly : ' I, too, have faults/ On the 
loss of his medicine chest that fatal calamity which 
was indeed the beginning of the end he says, quietly, 
' I felt as if I had received sentence of death,' and he 
does return to this dire loss ; but even that soon passes 
with all other lets and hindrances, and we hear no more 


of it, save indirectly in the doctor's failing health and 
the complication of maladies which at last wore out his 
iron frame. 

One other grand instance of the power of emotion I 
will bring before you in the life of General Garibaldi. 
No man has more obviously exercised immense power 
through the propagation and discipline of patriotic feel- 
ing than Garibaldi. When I was in Italy, during the 
great Italian campaign of 1860, I had frequent oppor- 
tunities of seeing Garibaldi as he appeared as Dictator 
of the Two Sicilies in that strange and stormy time. 
But what struck me most about him was his intense 
calmness ; the unruffled serenity of the man in the 
midst of all the turmoil about him was marvellous. But 
along with this imperturbable repose of character he had 
that same power of concentrated enthusiasm stored up 
for the good of all Italy. What inspired that;,. man was, 
in another form, what inspired Livingstone, a burning 
self-sacrificing love for his kind, and a burning indigna- 
tion against injustice and wrong. He has been called 
a bandit and a freebooter, and much of his life and 
activity seems to countenance the charge at first sight, 
as though he gave way to a kind of disorderly thirst for 
conquest and military activity ; but in Garibaldi this 
undoubted genius for war was purified and redeemed by 
one grand and concentrated passion the love of man 
and the emancipation of Italy. When Garibaldi began 
his work the north of Italy was in the possession of 
Austria, a large slice out of the middle belonged to the 
Pope, whilst the south groaned under the worst despot- 
ism. Garibaldi has lived long enough to see the liber- 
ation of the whole land of Italy and Sicily, and he has 
certainly hastened that event by at least fifty or sixty 
years, probably more. I don't say that Italy would not 
have been free in time, but Garibaldi's enthusiasm 
enormously hastened the movement, and has saved the 
country a deluge of blood and money ; for again and 
again he did with a handful of men, by a coup cle main, 
what it would have taken the King of Italy years and 
years to do. By his concentrated enthusiasm he bowed 


the hearts of Italians from north to south as the heart of 
one man, and accomplished what great combinations 
without him could not have done. 

There is nothing more remarkable in European history 
than that rapid and astonishing campaign which gave 
Sicily and Naples to Victor Emmanuel. You will re- 
member the story, how pregnant with the deepest 
emotion, so that Italians even now speak of it with bated 
breath. Two little steamers slipped out of Genoa one 
moonlight night, crammed with 1000 picked men, Gari- 
baldi's famous Italian legion. They slipped down the 
west coast and glided over to Sicily. Everybody said, 
e Garibaldi is mad ; the king's government is in a fer- 
ment he must be stopped ! } But Cavour is too cunning 
to stop him j on the other hand, he protests and does 
nothing; and the next news is, that after two bloody 
fights Garibaldi has taken Palermo and is master of 
Sicily. Over the way lies the kingdom of Naples. Poor 
Francis II. hears with consternation of the approach of 
the great bandit. But no one has time to speculate, 
Garibaldi has already pounced upon the mainland, his 
men are spread in ambush all over the hills. Then 
it is that Francis, the king, sends to offer Garibaldi fifty 
millions of francs and the whole of his fleet if he will be 
off and capture Venice instead of Naples. An attempt 
to arrest the earth's motion might have been more suc- 
cessful. Garibaldi was now at Salerno, he had left the 
bulk of his army in Sicily. With a few of his staff 
officers, and without any army at all, he took train for 
Naples, then in the possession of a hostile force, the 
Neapolitan army numbering 30,000 men. What was his 
strength, his irresistible strength, in that supreme 
moment ? It was enthusiasm, nothing but enthusiasm ; 
he relied upon it implicitly, it saved him, it saved Italy. 
That last advance to the capture -of Naples is perhaps 
the most dramatic and astonishing episode in the whole 
history of civilized war. The crowd gathered thickly 
about the engine, and climbed upon the carriages ; more 
than once the train had to stop, and then advance again 
at a snail's pace. So Garibaldi arrived at Naples ; the 


whole of tlie populace are with him, the town is in the 
wildest tumult ; but the army is still faithful to the king. 
Garibaldi alights from the train and occupies two 
carriages with a few of his staff officers,, and then atnid 
the shouts of the people he advances slowly into Naples. 
Yonder lies the gloomy fort of St Elmo and the Castel- 
nuovo, bristling with guns manned by gunners, waiting 
but the word of command to sweep the "streets with 
grape-shot, and shoot down the mob, for the army is 
still supposed to be attached to the Royalists. Garibaldi 
calmly approaches the great fortress ; the guns are 
pointed at him, the matches are lighted, the fate of Italy 
and her hero hangs in the balance. Garibaldi, as he 
comes within close range of the guns, cries to the coach- 
man, ' Slower ! drive slower ! } The poor coachman, of 
course who is shivering in his boots, seems at first 
not to hear, when with a voice of thunder, not ac- 
customed to command twice, the general roars out, 
' Slower ! ' Then the driver draws in his reins, and at 
walking pace advances towards the castle. And now 
comes a moment so sublime that the memory of it will 
be handed down to the latest posterity as one of the 
grandest of emotional triumphs. The general standing 
up alone in his carriage, with uncovered head, gazed 
steadfastly at the guns, then he surveyed the gunners 
with their lighted matches, and silence seemed to fall on 
the excited crowd ; the suspense hardly lasted a minute. 
Three times the orders are given to fire. Once ! twice ! ! 
but at the third time the men threw down their 
matches and threw up their caps and shouted ' Viva 
Garibaldi \ } 

Any persons who think that fraud, nonsense, and 
enthusiasm have got anything to do with my love and 
admiration for General Garibaldi, had better hold up 
their hands, or else for ever after hold their peace. (G reat 

And now, my friends, I am reminded by that clock 
that it is almost time for you to enjoy the selections of 
music which are to follow this address. Music is the 
language of emotion. I think the time will come when 


music will have an enormous power over men in rousing, 
recreating, and disciplining their emotions. We are 
only just beginning to learn, here in England, what a 
great and beneficial power it wields. Wherever there is 
music you will find the people flock to listen. Music, like 
everything else, may be degraded, may be made the serv- 
ant of base emotions ; it may be poor and frivolous, and it 
may be bad'. Give the people good music in order that 
their hearts may be raised and purified by the play of 
wholesome and recreative feeling. In choosing a selection 
from ' Elijah' to-niglit, that desire has been certainly 
uppermost in the minds of myself and others. This 
Oratorio of Elijah, is one of the grandest pieces of music 
that ever entered into the heart of man to conceive, or 
of composer to record. Mendelssohn's emotion was 
always true, balanced and dignified, and his works are 
irradiated with these qualities, which belonged so con- 
spicuously to his beautiful and manly character. I believe 
myself that systematically hearing good music, when you 
have the musical faculty, does really teach the mind to 
balance its own emotions and keep them under proper 
control. A great work of art, like a Symphony of 
Beethoven, or an Oratorio by Mendelssohn, is nothing 
but the expression of those accumulations, windings, 
turnings, and legitimate developments and progressions 
of emotion which take place in the mind of a master 
workman. Our impulse is roused, then the mind is 
concentrated on a certain order of emotional development 
through sound ; at a certain point you are left suspended 
and hanging as it were in mid air, and wonder how you 
will ever come down again ; but the great composer 
comes like a magician and leads you down through other 
phases of feeling, until you find yourself once more on 
terra firma,, all the better for your excursion, refreshed 
and recreated, and fit for sober and vigorous action. 
Music, by shifting suddenly the emotional atmosphere of 
the mind, will often do more for us in five minutes than 
the wisest book or the soundest argument. Eor music 
deals straight at first hand with the emotional region, 
which is also the wellspring of our activity and highest 


use. But tins subject is too vast for me to enter upon 
now. You may, perhaps, feel disappointed that I have 
not dwelt to-night at greater length on the abuse of 
emotion. But alas, it is too rampant in this great city in 
every form for me to wish to bring it out in painful 
detail before you on Sunday evening. I have rather in 
my brief address tried to show you, First, how narrow 
and irrelevant a thing it is to sneer promiscuously at 
emotion, and taboo enthusiasm generally ; and secondly, 
what it is which alone makes emotion valuable, and how 
irresistible it becomes when cultivated and developed in 
sufficient quantities, and directed by duty, honour, and 
wisdom into right channels. With these thoughts for 
you to work out more at length for yourselves, I shall 
now leave you to the undivided and profitable enjoyment 
of Mendelssohn's immortal music. 

The address, which was delivered without notes and 
somewhat rapidly, occupied three-quarters of an hour, and 
was frequently interrupted by applause. 


IT was once my fortune, or misfortune, to walk home to 
London from Epsom Downs on the early morning of 
the Derby Day, after spending the night on the course 
for the purpose of observing the nocturnal manners and 
customs of its temporary occupants. I found. on that 
occasion, not indeed every man's hand against me, but 
most people's faces, and a good many of their tongues. 
All, or nearly all, were travelling in an opposite direction 
to myself, and they were not folks of a class likely to let 
an eccentric traveller pass without treating him to a little 
chaff. Barring this last item, my experiences on Satur- 
day night were really almost a reproduction in miniature 


of those on tlie Derby Day above-mentioned. I went in 
a nearly empty train on the Metropolitan to Moorgate 
Street, in order to hear Mr Burgon deliver the Gresham 
Lecture on Prayer. A previous lecture had been devoted 
to a consideration of Professor Tyndall's Belfast address ; 
but as I had done that pretty well to death back in the 
summer, I did not care to recur to the subject, and I 
rightly surmised I should get a good deal of Tyndall in 
the Lecture on Prayer. 

I had scarcely realized before what a howling wilder- 
ness the City was on a Saturday night, or so clearly 
grasped the conception of what was meant by its million 
of ( floating population.' Basinghall Street, at the corner 
of which stands the Grresham Institute, was without its 
usual stream of busy wayfarers, only one exceedingly 
drunken person zigzagging up and down the road, and 
two clerks emerging from a colossal office with the in- 
evitable brief-bags in their hands, and probably illegal 
cigars in their mouths. These were all the occupants of 
usually busy Basinghall Street, and all of these were 
homeward bound, though the inebriated one was likely 
to tack a long while before he got there. 

Arrived at the Grresham, I found a resplendent beadle, 
bound in blue cloth with gold edges, and the very lieau 
ideal of a cocked hat on his majestic head. He lolled on 
a porter's chair at the bottom of the stairs, looking in- 
finitely bored, and probably thinking what lunatics we 
were to come to the City on such a drizzling January 
night to hear a Lecture on Prayer. I say we for at 
the door I was joined by an elderly lady and two resigned 
youths, who were evidently being borne along as a 
matter of unavoidable duty by their venerable protectress. 
In the lecture theatre about a dozen not very lively- 
looking listeners were gathered, some three or four being 
clergymen, and the rest equally divided among 1 the male 
and female sexes. Precisely at seven o'clock Mr Burgon 
took his place at the desk, ushered by the gorgeous 
beadle or, I rather think, a facsimile and accompanied 
by two or three ladies, who seated themselves in the front 


row around the table, where one generally expects to see 
the directors of an institution. 

Plunging at once into his subject, a,nd reading, I could 
see,, from printed slips of proof pasted on foolscap, Mr 
Burgon began by saying he should have to abridge his 
remarks considerably, as he was to start for Oxford by 
an eight o'clock train. lam not sure that I should have 
dared that wilderness journey to the City had I known 
that his remarks were to be so brief. One is tempted to 
ask whether the Gresham arrangements are made im- 
promptu, or, if not, by what mismanagement Mr Burgon's 
lecture was placed on so inconvenient a night. 

It was a special aspect of the subject, said the lecturer, 
to which attention would be directed. He alluded to the 
insolence of scientific unbelief, and denounced as mere 
sciolists those who thus appropriated to themselves ' the 
sacred name of science/ Philosophers, he said, knew 
that the decrees of one science did not intrude into the 
domains of another. One branch of physical science did 
not insolently dogmatize about another. To do so was 
to abandon the purely inductive method in favour of the 
deductive. Most offensive of all was the scoffing lan- 
guage indulged in by the ' Enlightened Christians of the 
nineteenth century/ in illustration of which Mr Burgon 
read a long extract from the Pall Mall Gazette of Feb- 
ruary 16, 1866, on the subject of the Prayer against the 
Cattle Plague. 

The position assumed by these Enlightened Christians 
of the nineteenth century was that proof was wanting 
as to the fact of prayer being answered. It was pro- 
posed to bring the matter to the test of experiment. 
Let two wards of a hospital be selected with patients 
in each suffering from diseases as nearly as possible 
identical. Let both have precisely the same medical 
attention ; but let prayer be offered in one and omitted 
in the other, and see whether there would be any 
difference in the result. 

Nothing, the lecturer said, could be more foolish 
than this proposal, or exhibit a more entire miscon- 



ception of the nature of prayer. It assumed that 
prayer was a physical or mechanical force. The Pro- 
fessor of Theological Science could at once set right the 
Enlightened Christian of the nineteenth century on 
this subject. (There was quite a touch of satire in the 
constant repetition of this title for his supposed antago- 
nist.) He could at once predict disappointment, and 
for the very reason that the proceeding was ' unscientific/ 
You might as well attempt to use a sun-dial to calculate 
an eclipse. One could not but be struck by the inge- 
nuity with which Mr Burgon assumed for theology just 
as clear a domain as for physical science, and for its 
professors a ' clear stage and no favour/ 

Two considerations must here be taken into account : 
(1) that prayer was offered to the Father of Spirits, not 
to a mere blind force, and therefore, the will and 
affections came to be factors in the act of prayer ; (2) 
not only so not only was it to no merely mechanical 
force prayer was addressed, but to a ( jealous } God, 
who would resent cross-questioning with terrible dis- 
pleasure. The position assumed in such a challenge 
was exactly that of the Jews who said to Christ, ' Come 
down from the cross if Thou be the Son of God. Save 
Thyself, and we will believe/ When a sign was 
demanded, it was said that no sign should be given, 
except that of Jonah. So were we quite sure that 
' blank silence alone would be the result of the Hospital 
test' It was said of Christ that He could on one 
occasion do no mighty work because of men's unbelief. 
So faith was demanded now. The experimental method 
was preposterous ; and, as he had said, disappointment 
could be predicted as its result. It omitted altogether 
the moral state of the man who prayed. 

A more formidable objection, because more subtle, 
and more likely to impose on persons if cleverly put, 
was that which, regarding God as a mere abstraction, 
as the ' Great First Cause/ maintained that it was 
derogatory to God to think that He could be influenced 
by prayer. If Providence, unswayed by prayer, was 
not perfect, then, it was argued, God was not perfect. 


(This, I may mention in passing, was the position 
taken by Mr Voysey in a recent sermon based on the 
Hon. Auberon Herbert's letter, and called ' Rational 
and Irrational Prayer.') How, it was asked, could we 
expect God to ' reconsider ' His arrangements ? 

Here again the fallacy was that we assumed some- 
thing about the Divine Nature which we were not 
warranted in doing. Why should not Perfect Wisdom 
have ordered that each life should be determined by 
the character of its will? Divine Revelation represented 
God as making His answer to prayer depend on the 
moral state of him who prayed. Of this the analogy of 
the parental relation was the most perfect illustration. 
It was no part of our idea of an earthly parent that he 
should be inexorable, and if God was the great moral 
governor we knew Him to be, inflexibility would not be 
among His attributes. ' Directly I mention that word 
" My Father ! " ' said Mr Burgon in some telling 
sentences at the end of his brief lecture, ' my eyes run 
over; and I feel that the Enlightened Christian must 
take off his professional robes before he can argue with 
me. If God is my Father, He must be willing as well 
as able to answer my prayer/ 

Every argument of the Apostles of Prayerlessness 
broke down; and the Philosophers must find weapons 
from some other armoury before they would destroy 
man's belief in the efficacy of prayer. 

It was a veritable multum in parvo, for the hand 
pointed only to 7.20 when Mr Burgon broke off with 
an apology, and left me conscious of two wishes : first, 
that there had been time to deal more exhaustively 
with his subject; and secondly, that he would take his 
lecture down to the Hall of Science, and with it beard 
the Apostles of Prayerlessness in their own den. 



WHAT to do with our f surplus ' population in the 
least flattering sense of that expressive word is 
always an embarrassing question. I allude for the 
moment to that surplus which, unless otherwise pro- 
vided for, finds its way to the baby-farmer, or too often 
to a premature grave. Any compassion that might 
otherwise be extended to these, the most helpless of 
God's creatures, is often prevented by the idea that in 
caring for the offspring you offer a premium on the 
vice which calls them into existence; and so they go 
on, either departing from life as uncared for as they 
entered it, or growing up to swell our criminal popula- 
tion, and so indirectly revenging themselves upon 
society which exiles them from its regards. 

I remember once, when I was living in Paris, falling 
in, during a summer evening's walk, with a conversa- 
tional old gentleman who occupied an influential position 
in the mairie of one of the Southern Arrondissements ; 
and he volunteered to show me as a foreigner the 
lions of the district. Amongst other things, he took 
me to the Hospice des Enfants Trouves, and at his 
direction the officials initiated me in the mysteries of 
the turning-box. I rang a bell at the entrance, and 
immediately a box, like a little crib, projected itself 
from the gate. Into this the ' surplus ' member of the 
population would, under ordinary circumstances, be 
placed by its ' parent or guardian/ the box pulled back, 
and the superfluous member of the community with- 
drawn into private life cut off henceforth by a great 
gulf from ever troubling further its anxious papa or 
mamma. The device, my friend informed me, was a 
clumsy rough-and-ready concession to the exigences of 


the situation. He was by no means enthusiastic in his 
commendation of the method; but as often as it had 
been abandoned, in deference to those who insisted 
that it augmented the evil it professed to diminish, so 
often infanticide increased in such prodigious propor- 
tions as to necessitate its re-adoption. Old habitues of 
the Adelphi Theatre will recollect a thrilling scene iri 
'Janet Pride/ where Mrs Alfred Mellon, having de- 
posited her property-infant in such a turning-box, fell 
dramatically upon the boards, amid a cruel storm of 
white paper. This was the French method for getting 
over the difficulty of ' surplus ' population. 

I went the other day to visit, not one of these 
colossal institutions where the stock of surplus humanity 
is dealt with wholesale so to say but to a little 
private ' retail ' establishment, where a good lady gives, 
not her money only, but her time and herself, to the 
work of providing for these little mistakes in our civil- 
ization. It is a lady's humble but honourable attempt 
to supersede the necessity of the baby-farm, and to do 
the work of charity in a somewhat different way from 
that contemplated in the larger institutions. In these, 
the separation of mother and child is inevitable ; where- 
as the good lady, whose little farm for surplus human 
stock came under my notice in the most unpretentious 
way, uses the child by way of lever to lift the mother 
into that position which she has, often through her 
' misfortune ' rather than her fault, abdicated. Eadem 
poenitentia non est omnibus imponenda is the motto of 
Miss Bagshawe's work at Park Lodge, Bath Eoad, 
Hounslow, at which most exceptional little institution I 
paid my unpremeditated visit. I found a little low- 
built suburban cottage standing in fields, with a wide- 
open gate abutting on the roadway, and nothing of the 
nature of the prison about it. In fact, there was nothing 
to prevent the access of the whole wide world to Park 
Lodge, except a fiery little terrier, who had more bark 
than bite in him, and who, after a merely perfunctory 
nibble at the extremity of my inexpressibles, succumbed 
to my remonstrances, and allowed me to enter. 


Another point which, greatly recommended Miss 
Bagshawe to me was that she did. not dress up. She 
was in the ordinary garb of civilized life ; and had she 
not told me so, I certainly should never have guessed 
that she was residing there with twenty companions, 
ten being children of the l surplus ' character, and the 
other ten of 110 character at all. Yet she informed me 
she seldom had any difficulty with that somewhat 
singular family circle ; and though ten children is rather 
a large quiverful, she flattered herself there was less 
crying than would be heard in many a lady's nursery. 
From the little parlour where Miss Bagshawe received 
me I passed to the children's room, where some half- 
dozen had just come in from the neighbouring day- 
school, escorted by the terrier who had nibbled my 
trousers. Here was little Bob, with a strange story of 
his own : here little Maggie and Maud, whose ' cases ' 
might have gone straight into a sensation story. They 
were all as merry as grigs, and skipping about their 
room, which was still decorated for Christmas, with a 
huge toy-bedizened tree in the middle. There was not 
an atom of ( discipline 3 in the lot. My own belongings 
could not have crowded round me more naturally than 
this same strange ' surplus ' Maggie, Maud, and Bob did. 

dp-stairs in the infants' nursery one small superfluity 
who had just shaved the edges of starvation was lying 
in a cradle with its lank, thin arms extended, on which 
the newly-developed flesh still hung somewhat flabbily 
withal ; but this superfluity had evidently rounded the 
corner, and was looking up with a sort of inquiring ex- 
pression as to what this new turn in his fortune could 
mean. ' When it came here a few. days ago/ said Miss 
Bagshawe, f its head was such a mass of dirt that we 
thought it was black from a blow ; 3 but it looked as 
trim and neat as the average British baby then. An- 
other was ailing, but certainly not from want of food or 
attention ; and its mother, I was told, was as anxious 
about its well-being as though it had not been a super- 
fluity at all. Some of the women in good situations are 
glad to pay five, or even seven shillings a week to have 


their children well taken care of. None are refused; 
but the Home of Compassion has no funds, and lives as 
purely on faith as Mrs Girling and her followers in the 
New Forest. This is a mode of meeting daily expenses 
which housekeepers can well understand causes a good 
deal of anxiety sometimes, but Miss Bagshawe is not a 
lady to be discomposed by a little trouble, or she would 
never have started housekeeping at Park Lodge at all. 
She had a slight difficulty the morning I was there. A 
stout, hale girl employed in the kitchen turned refractory, 
and was told she must go to the workhouse, as she was 
deserted by both parents. She suddenly assented ; but 
when the moment of departure came, broke down, and 
gave the following amusing rationale of her ill-behaviour: 
' You are too kind to me. Pve never been used to any- 
thing but being cuffed and knocked about ; and kind- 
ness spoils me/ She was reinstated on probation, and 
informed that she must not expect the discipline of 
knocking about, but try to render herself amenable to 

Miss Bagshawe has two principal objects of ambition. 
She feels that a cow would be useful to pick up those 
superfluities who are apt to come in rather a feeble con- 
dition of health to the Home, and for whom good milk 
is a necessity. There is capital pasturage at Park Lodge, 
but no cow. Pigs, however, form the acme of her am- 
bition. She drew me quite a glowing picture of the 
money she could make if she could only take to breed- 
ing pigs. 

Bedclothes, too, are covetously sought at Park Lodge. 
One kind draper in Lambeth Walk had sent a quantity 
of patterns of woollen goods, which were sewn together 
and made into warm petticoats for the female superflui- 
ties. A lady had sent, too of all things in the world 
a package of old ball dresses. Balls are not given at 
Park Lodge ; but Miss Bagshawe turned her attention 
for the time being to the old-clothes-dealing line, and 
proudly told me she had got eleven shillings for the good 
lady's discarded finery ! VYith regard to the ' leverage } 
question, she pointed me to two children, one a trim 


girl of fourteen, who brought in the luncheon tray, and 
another a bright boy. These had been kept most care- 
fully by the mother, who actually, until she heard of this 
Home of Compassion, retained her evil life so as to get 
resources to maintain the children. So scrupulous was 
she lest the children should hear a word of evil, that 
Miss Bagshawe overheard them say to the other little 
ones as they were passing Astley's one day, ' That's the 
only theatre ma would ever take us to. She said the 
others weren't proper/ How it brought to one's mind 
the anxiety of Dives lest his five brethren should come 
to his own place of torment f 

In another case a child only three years and a half old 
had been taken away from the mother in the very midst 
of the haunts of vice, and now, when the mother came, 
the little one absolutely shrank from her. The very first 
night she came to the Home, she knelt down, and, of 
her own accord, prayed that her mother might be kept 
from drinking gin. She gave in the most graphic way 
an account of her Saturday night's- marketing. When 
she had sixpence to lay out, her disbursements were a 
farthing dip, a little bread, and a quartern of gin for 

In these, and in many other cases, Miss Bagshawe 
found from facts worth a hundredfold more than theory 
that the leverage does tell; and she only needs re- 
sources to employ it more largely. She has no desire 
for an institution. Her aim is rather to start cottages 
around the central Home of Park Lodge. 

I was somewhat surprised to find that she had a good 
word for the baby-farmers. She did not believe that 
they intentionally neglected the children, but the parents 
were often irregular in their payments, and the poverty 
of the ' farmers } did not permit them to do their duty. 
This, I remember, was the very plea I heard Margaret 
Waters put in when she stood on the scaffold, about to 
expiate with her life some little irregularities in her 
treatment of some of those very superfluities. 

I have seen a good many of these arrangements for 
the ' surplus' population and their parents; some ex- 


ceedingly picturesque, and others so perfect in point of 
discipline that most of the penitents who are rather 
impulsive than aesthetic ran away; but I never saw 
work so earnestly yet unostentatiously done as at that 
little low-lying cottage christened somewhat preten- 
tiously Park Lodge, Hounslow. Its title is the only 
pretentious part of it, however; the work is real and 
unpretending done, be it recollected, by one self-deny- 
ing lady, who gives not only her means and time, but 
herself, to the task of remedying, on however small a 
scale, these big mistakes in our Social Science ! 


AMONG- those strange combinations of religious ideas 
which resulted from the Tractarian revival, none was 
more remarkable than the particular phase called, a 
quarter of a century ago, by the name of Aitkenism. 
It has been not inaptly described as a fusion of High 
Church doctrine with Methodistical preaching; and, 
perhaps, no fitter representative could be found of the 
thing though not of the name than Mr Body, whose 
pulpit utterances at All Saints', Margaret Street, 
awakened so much attention a few years ago. The 
mantle of Mr Aitken appears to have fallen on his son, 
though with a difference, again exhibiting the exuber- 
ance of religious development at the present time. Mr 
Aitken the younger, who had been conducting a week's 
mission at Curzon Chapel, Mayfair, has, by the very 
locality he selected, loosened his hold on the Tractarian 
portion of his paternal system, while retaining the 
preaching power in, if possible, greater vigour than his 
father. But still, though Curzon Chapel may well be 


taken as a representative of distinctive Evangelical doc- 
trine, Mr Aitken is something far more than what would 
be called an ' acceptable ' preacher of that cultus. Pro- 
nounced doctrinal opinions alone are sufficient to gain 
an ordinary pulpit reputation in the Low Church school 
of oratory ; out Mr Aitken is an orator pure and simple ; 
and by no means obtrudes any dogmatic element into 
his discourses, which are still earnest and practical in 
the very highest sense of the terms. The sermon which 
I purpose to report briefly was, so to say, the aftermath 
of the Mission, which had just concluded ; and I would 
here insert a word of warning to any person who may 
be disposed to follow my example in these ecclesiastical 
wanderings. They have led into considerable expenses 
with my tailor, in this way I am obliged to adapt the 
cut of my coat to the church I visit, or else I find no 
favour with the pew-openers, who are an Argus-eyed 
race. For heretical places of worship, I assume a cut- 
away coat made of what is termed ' diagonal/ with a 
wide- opening waistcoat, and a black tie. At a Ritual- 
istic church I wear ' Roman bands,' an ' M.B/ waistcoat 
and my ordinary clerical coat ; while for Evangelical 
churches I have had a frock coat specially constructed, 
so as to make me look like a respectable artisan dressed 
in Sunday best ; and this I usually combine with a vest 
buttoned nearly up to the throat, a large white tie in a 
bow, stand up collar, and a black mohair Albert watch- 
guard. Now I thought Aitkenism might well be repre- 
sented by the Evangelical frock coat and M.B. waistcoat, 
and consequently went forth thus attired. But alas ! I 
had not calculated on the modern development of the 
system according to the ' use ' of Curzon Chapel. That 
M.B. waistcoat was a fatal mistake. The pew-opener 
a truculent-looking lady spotted me in a moment, and 
put me into the worst seat in the gallery, right behind a 
pillar. It is true she gave me a Penny Mission Hymn 
Book late on in the service ; but even that she threw at 
me as though I were a heathen past praying for. I could 
only get a glimpse of the pulpit by craning my neck a 
great deal to one side or the other; and I had to vary 


sides to prevent cramp, and sometimes to keep it straight 
for awhile. This threw me back on myself a .good deal, 
and I found that the other occupants of the pew were 
servants ; in fact, there were nobody but male and 
female retainers and the choir in the extreme south-west 
corner to which I was relegated. 

The service was admirably read by a youngish curate, 
in the most happy medium between intoning and preach- 
ing. In fact the whole service, music and all, was most 
hearty and congregational. Every pew was filled ex- 
cept mine. There was room for half-a-dozen more 
people south of me ; but nobody else came in with an 
M.B. waistcoat, so I had a wilderness of space on my 
right. No Litany was read, and the service jumped at 
once from the Third Collect to the Prayer for Parliament 
a very judicious abbreviation. The General Thanks- 
giving was recited full-voiced by the whole congrega- 
tion. I could not miss the sensation of intense reality 
conveyed in the singing and responding at Curzon 
Chapel. There was nothing perfunctory about it. 
Everybody seemed thoroughly in earnest. The hymn, 
' Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven,' was sung to the 
Tantum ergo tune, which requires the fourfold repetition 
of the words ' Praise Him/ and this always seems to 
afford the singers great delight. The same was the case 
with that which subsequently preceded the sermon, 
where ' Crown Him ' was similarly repeated in a gradual 
crescendo, reaching a veritable climax at No. 4. Mr 
Aitken read the ante- Communion Service in a deep 
voice, rather hurrying the Commandments, and I was 
surprised to find monotoning the Nicene Creed. Then 
he mounted the pulpit in his surplice, and, after a long 
extempore prayer of great power, gave out as his text 
St Mark vi. 20, the Sunday being, it should be noticed, 
within the octave of St John's Day- 
Expressing a hope that during the Mission then past 
many had ' surrendered themselves ' to God, it was 
necessary, he said, that they should, at the outset of 
their career, have a high spiritual model, and such he 
offered them in John the Baptist, of whom it was said 


on the highest authority of all, no greater was ever born 
of woman.. He was, said the preacher, a type of what 
you and I should be. His mission was peculiar. Grod 
raises up in different ages witnesses to different classes 
of truth, but still John was one who demanded our imi- 
tation in his pursuit of the great ideal. There were 
several questions worth asking on this subject. 

1 . Whence did he derive his power ? Only from the 
Holy Ghost regenerating and sanctifying him. He was 
prophesied of as being ' filled with the Holy Ghost/ As 
his intelligence expanded it was consecrated by the 
Holy Spirit. This was the difference between a real 
and a formal Christian ; the one had all his faculties 
taken possession of by the Holy Spirit; the other 
troubled himself little about God the Holy Ghost as 
long as his views were orthodox according to the con- 
ventional standard. The world did not believe in the 
Holy Ghost. It came to God's house with a lie on 
its lips. Men believed in Jesus Christ as they be- 
lieved in Napoleon Bonaparte or Alexander the Great. 
He was a mere historic Christ ; and if we thus relegated 
Jesus to history He was a living Jesus no longer. They 
believed in God the Father as a mere abstraction, having 
no connection with daily life ; but a belief in Grod the 
Holy Ghost was ascribed to heated feelings and called 
fanaticism. Show me a man who is living* in such a 
belief, and I will show you one at whom the world points 
the finger of scorn. Here was our strength. He bade 
his hearers not be distressed because they did not feel so 
much of the Holy Spirit's influence as they ought. Take 
it, he said, as a revealed fact. There were times when 
its presence was sensible, others when the manifestation 
did not correspond with our desires. But if we were 
grounded in Christ we should be conscious of the fruits 
of the Spirit. Let us not be like impatient children 
who pulled up plants now and again to see that they 
were growing. 

2. This man was not afraid to speak the truth. It was 
amazing, the influence he had over the Jewish nation 
and over Herod. He did not begin at once with the 


sore point. He got hold of him by other means first, 
and here it was Christians often made a mistake. In 
protesting against some particular sin it was not neces- 
sary always to bring that sin to the front. We should 
first win influence. We did not know how John did 
this ; but if he had come face to face with Herod and 
said at once c You are living in adultery/ he would have 
lost ground. He worked up to that point, and when the 
time came he did not blanch, though the despot, who 
held his life in his hands, did before his tremendous 
words. He knew he was laying his head on the execu- 
tioner's block when he said, ' It is not lawful for thee to 
have this woman ! ' 

Dear children of God, said the preacher, until you have 
got hold of the heart, until you have gone thus to the 
very core, you have not discharged your duty. Don't 
condescend to be cowards, dear children of God ; be 
heroes. Here was the coward on the throne : the prophet 
was bold as a lion. Herod ' feared/ Why ? Be- 
cause John was full of the Holy Ghost. And you may 
count on the cowardice of the foe. You will have the 
calm consciousness of possessed power and under such 
circumstances, wisdom often consists in the scorn of con- 
sequences. If John had not spoken out boldly, he would 
have been the devil's emissary, because Herod would 
have been able to say : f This thing cannot be so very 
bad, since John the Baptist never said a word against it.' 

3. He was just and holy, and so Herod feared him. 
There was, said the speaker, no greater power in society 
than holiness. You might take two clergymen, for 
instance, in corresponding parishes. One possessed 
rhetorical powers and talents of all kinds. The other 
was a man of greater simplicity ; and it was quite possible 
without uncharitableness to contrast their influence. Gro 
into their parishes, and you would hear flattering remarks 
about the former, but his influence was nil. Without 
disparaging the other it might be conceded that he was 
a man of no power j and yet people would say, I cannot 
understand the secret of his marvellous influence. The 
world is ever constrained thus to wonder at the work of 


the Invisible. So, lie went on to argue, it was in other 
circles. Social position was a great thing ; political in- 
fluence great while it lasted ; but ifc came and went. 
The favourite politician of to-day found himself laid on 
the shelf to-morrow. Intellectual supremacy told only 
on a class. There were limitations in all these j but in 
holiness there was something 1 which touched the hearts 
of all. We might scorn it with our lips, but it had our 
heart's respect, and we could not rob God's saints of it. 
I believe, said the preacher, that Herodias respected 
John. There is always a latent respect for the man who 
is living in God and God in him. If we had this power 
of the Holy Ghost, and were also living holy lives, we 
should speak straight out. Don't be afraid because the 
world ridicules you. Young men, never mind if your 
club puts you out of the synagogue as unmanly. It is 
manly to stand by your colours, and wear the regimentals 
of Heaven. They don't mean it. The Holy Spirit in 
you has made them feel uncomfortable ; and when they 
give you the bitter sarcasm or the dead cut, they feel 
profound respect for you. 

To turn from John to Herod. His case at first seemed 
hopeful. He was sufficiently manly to listen to John. 
He had a heart and a conscience. Herod was told what 
to do ; as people are told in all real sermons. The 
darling sin was to be given up. But immediately he 
asked, ' Won't something- else do ? ' There was a syna- 
gogue wanted at Capernaum. He would build one. 
That charitable endowment at Jerusalem was in want of 
funds. He would double his subscription. He l did many 
things,' swayed by those tremendous sermons of the 
Desert- Prophet. If there were many roads to Heaven, 
how sure people would be to get there ! 

Then followed a consummate reduction of the matter 
to practice. We tried to make compromises with, the 
inexorable demands of God. God says, ' Your hearts.' 
We say, 'Our purse.' Thus we try to ' wriggle out' of 
God's hands. 

John told him many things first, and then in that last 
sermon the sword went home. He said, f Look on that 


woman. It is not lawful for thee to have her as thy 
wife.' Then came Herod's decision. The walls of Ma- 
cheerus must shut that preacher from his presence. He 
was wedded to that fatal sin. 

Brethren, there is a John Baptist in every heart no 
man, perhaps, but the Spirit which convicts of sin before 
it convicts of righteousness. We are just in the position 
of Herod. We can give up that sin, or we can turn a 
deaf ear and prison the preacher within dungeon walls. 
Then as John grows weaker sin grows stronger. Hero- 
dias has her quarrel with John. He is forgotten ; and 
the daughter of Herodias dances. Herod is mesmerized I 
The awful moments run out. And then there is the 
whisper in his ear, 'The Baptist's head ! } . He is sorry. 
He would like to go on ' doing many things/ The 
tempter seems so little stern when he comes in the guise 
of a dancing damsel. The courtiers are looking on ; and 
the poor wretch is the slave of conventional influences ; 
and so ' because of them that sat at meat } John must die. 
So the fatal history closed (and here the stentorian voice 
sank to a pathetic whisper). A few short months, and 
Herod Antipas was gazing at the ruins of his army, scat- 
tered for the very sin John had condemned, as the father 
of his outraged wife strewed them on the plain ! 

There was one picture more : a lonely fort a dungeon- 
keep in barbarous Gaul. Two solitary ones were there 
crownless, sceptreless ; the courtiers gone. There sat 
the sinner and his sin Herod and Herodias sin tyran- 
nizing over him to the very last ! 

It was an awful picture of the end of a man of the 
world. Think, he said adapting himself curiously to 
those whom he addressed think of the last London, 
season ; the last drive of the four-in-hand ; the last grand 
reception; the last paragraph in the Court Gazette; the 
lonely chamber of death. You must leave all behind 
your honour, your benevolence, your wealth, your dig- 
nity. One shadow shall dodge your steps still, driving 
you to hell, and follow you to its abysmal depth. TT It 
shall still be the sinner and his sin. Gaze then on the 
Saviour's face, and say not as a mere idle sentiment 


' The dearest idol I have known, 

"Whate'er that idol be, 
Teach me to tear it from my heart, 
And worship only Thee ! ' 

Tlie best test of the power of this sermon was that it 
lasted over an hour, and did not seem long. It wanted 
a little of noon when it began. Before we left the chapel 
it was about a quarter past one, so long did the vast con- 
gregation take to leave the building. 


T may seem an eccentric resolution wherewith to 
start on my accustomed round of the Churches 
during Holy Week, but I determined studiously to 
avoid Roman Catholic places of worship. I had a 
reason for doing so, however ; I wished in my study of 
ceremonies and ritual to regard these as f signs of the 
times,' indications of the present condition of the 
ecclesiastical thermometer ; and I felt that the con- 
servative traditions of the Papacy which had stereo- 
typed its now familiar culture were not the signs of the 
times now present, but the signs of a good long while 
ago. The method of the Anglican Church, on the other 
hand, retrogressive as some may possibly deem it, in so 
far as it assimilates the English, to the Romish Church, 
is an innovation even in its very retrogression. I eschew 
all controversy, and elect to be simply descriptive ; but 
so much is necessary to be said in order to explain what 
might appear the extraordinary process of thus cutting 
the ground from beneath my own feet. 

That some objective observance should mark the re- 
currence of this most solemn season of all the Christian 
year is surely but just and proper; and I was rejoiced to 


see outside a Wesleyan chapel at the West-end the 
announcement of ' Good Friday and Easter Sunday 
services/ This is certainly as it should be ; but it is a 
sign of the times that would have made the hair of some 
of our good old Puritan forefathers stand on end. My 
immediate business, however, is with certain Ritualistic 
practices confessedly adapted from the Roman Church, 
which are very significant notes of the situation in one 
branch of the Church of England; and which, should 
the projected Diocesan Courts become accomplished 
facts, may have to be described now or never, as they 
must certainly be eliminated as soon as those tribunals 
come into operation. 

On Wednesday evening of Holy Week, then, I ascer- 
tained that Tenebrse Service was to be sung by the 
Guild of St Alban in the church of St Matthias, South 
Kensington ; and I could not help thinking again what 
would my deceased grandfather, as a good old sober 
Church of England gentleman, have thought of Tenebras 
by a Guild in the State Church. Sebastian Bach's 
Passion music at St Paul's or the Abbey would have 
startled him. ; and so would the idea of cremation ; but 
there were ante-Reformation I had almost said anti- 
Reformation elements in this arrangement which ap- 
pertained not to the others ; so to South Kensington I 
went at half-past seven o'clock on Wednesday evening 
to do Tenebrse like a good ' Catholic/ The ordinary 
evening service was being performed as I passed from 
the fast disappearing green lanes into the handsome 
church of St Matthias ; but cassocked youths in the 
porch invited me to pay twopence for the ' Office of 
Tenebrse/ with the perusal of which I beguiled the time 
of waiting. From, this I learnt that the service was so 
designated from the gradual extinguishing of the lights 
during the singing of the Office until darkness, ' mystical 
or actual ' (whatever that may mean), is produced in 
the church, commemorative of the darkness which 
' witnessed the Crucifixion/ It consists of the Office 
of the last three days of Holy Week, which is now 
usually said by anticipation, so that the matins and 



lauds of Maundy Thursday are said on Wednesday 
afternoon. The Office, my vade-mecum went on to in- 
form me, ranks as ' a double ; ' and I have no conception 
what that signifies, unless it applies to its inordinate 
length, in which case it is singularly appropriate. After 
the Evening Prayers I believe I ought to say Even- 
song the Incumbent, Mr Haines, preached a sermon 
on the Betrayal and Agony of Christ, the Guild of St 
Alban corning in goodly numbers just before it com- 
menced, and sitting cassocked and cloaked at the back 
of the church. The discourse itself was somewhat 
remarkable. Taking as his text the words, ' If it be 
possible let this cup pass from Me/ Mr Haines noticed 
how men's difficulties depended on the nature of their 
positions. Sir Garnet Wolseley had he failed on the 
Gold Coast would have died a broken-hearted man. 
Sir John Franklin did die, and so did Livingstone, 
without accomplishing the tasks they had proposed to 
themselves. Men will thus give their lives to a pur- 
pose ; and Christ as the greatest of men, and speaking 
of Him simply as man, did the same. His philosophy 
had become the basis of all morality, and His courage 
was confessed even by unbelievers. He was I quote 
Mr Haines' s expression verbatim ' dodged by all the 
devils in hell ' during His earthly life ; and His human 
sufferings were increased by His Divine prescience, 
which intensified the sensitiveness of- His failure. These 
failures were often repeated ; as, for instance, when 
some true-hearted priest of the Church of England 
gave himself heart and soul to God's service, and 
offended his flock by the truth, so that they left him in 
a body, and very likely built a chapel right opposite his 
church. I did not think the illustration felicitous ; but 
there was a good deal more in the same strain, and Mr 
Haines concluded by saying, ' I want to ask you whether 
you were present in Gethsemane driving a dagger into 
your Redeemer's Heart ? ' After the sermon, two sur- 
pliced officials I never can tell which are clergy and 
which laity now-a-days in Ritualistic churches brought 
a large standard triangular candlestick containing fifteen 


candles 'of unbleached wax'' (so said my twopenny 
Office-book), which they proceeded to light, and which 
proved restive and refractory as usual. Six others were 
lighted on the altar, which was draped in deepest black, 
with crape-veiled cross ; and then the Guild took their 
places in the choir, entering in procession, and being mar- 
shalled to their positions by a master of the ceremonies. 
I was startled to see that the Office occupied no less 
than thirty-three closely-printed pages, in an octavo 
book, which was lent me by one of the Guild, who saw 
I was bewildered by my twopenny investment. This 
latter I perceived, to my dismay, was only an abridg- 
ment. It was just half-past eight o' clock when we 
began by chanting Psalms to Gregorian tones, the 
matin service being, as it seemed, incongruously divided 
into three ' Nocturns/ and followed by Lauds. Was it 
possible all this had to be gone through ? Slowly and 
sadly the service progressed. Psalms were chanted ; 
antiphons sung with endless repetitions ; and versicles 
and responses interspersed with Lessons, the latter being 
sung, too, in monotonous cadence. It was of course a 
Lenten exercise, and I was not so undisciplined as to 
expect anything lively ; but I was scarcely prepared for 
these interminable proceedings. Every now and then 
a sudden thought appeared to strike a young man in a 
surplice, who went with an extinguisher on the end of a 
pole and put out one candle, returning to his stall with 
the air of a person who had done his duty. At 9.50 we 
had only got through eighteen out of thirty-three 
pages, and extinguished some half-dozen candles. People 
began to go away very fast ; and at ten minutes past 
ten I did the same, leaving seven unbleached candles 
still burning on the triangular candlestick, and six on 
the altar, which had still to be extinguished to the 
Gregorian tones of the Guild of St Alban. The sequel 
of the service, which must have gone on until some- 
where near midnight, may be gathered from the rubric 
of my vade-mecum : 

All the candles upon the triangular candlestick, except that 
which is at the apex, having now been extinguished, the six altar 


lights shall also be extinguished, during the singing of 'Bene- 
dictus ; ' namely, at the verse ' That we being delivered,' the 
outer light on the Gospel side, and at the following verse, the 
outer light on the Epistle side, and so on, in succession, till the 
end. In the mean time the lights throughout the church shall be 
put out or covered. And when at the conclusion of ' Benedictus ' 
the Antiphon ' Now he that betrayed ' is repeated, the topmost 
candle shall be taken from the triangular stand, and hidden, still 
lighted, under the Epistle side of the altar. 

A collect followed ; and then a slight noise is made, 
and the lighted candle is immediately brought from 
beneath the altar ; and all rise and depart in silence. 
If matters went on after as before my departure, there 
could have been, by the time darkness, actual or mys- 
tical, supervened, very few left to rise or depart in silence. 
But of that I cannot speak. I had often been present 
at the Office in the Roman churches, when it seemed to 
me much shorter, and therefore more effective. I have 
forsworn criticism, but may be pardoned for saying I 
think Anglican congregations will require a good deal 
of educating before they will be equal to more than two 
hours of TenebrtB. They bore it like martyrs up to ten 
o'clock; but even then I had ample precedent for 
getting up and abruptly concluding my Passiontide ex- 



IT is not too much to say that the Church of England 
is at last learning the necessity of adapting herself to 
the various wants of the people whom it is her mission 
to influence, and the extreme unwisdom of that rigidity 
which has been too long, but incorrectly, deemed to be 
of the very essence of her system. In former days it 


was considered quite sufficient when twice on the Sun- 
day the church doors were thrown open, and people 
were allowed,, if they would, to come to two or three 
cheerless services gone over in a perfunctory manner by 
the officiating clergyman, who thought and spoke of the 
performance simply as so much ' duty/ There has been, 
of late years, a vast reawakening one may even say a 
revival. The Church has seen, amongst other things, 
that, if she is to leaven the masses of the people, and 
not leave them to Nonconformity or irreligion, she must 
lay aside her hauteur, and, in the words of the old 
allegory, go out into the streets and lanes of the city, 
and compel men to come in. Such, apart from all 
extreme views, has been the rationale of those at once 
more frequent and more decent services, of the care with 
which the House of God has been adorned and beautified, 
and also of the attention that has been given to the vast 
instrumentality of preaching. For a recognition of this 
need there is no doubt the Church has been largely 
indebted to the Dissenters. It may be that from another 
quarter she has learnt the value of home mission work ; 
though even in this respect the Wesleyans had some- 
thing to tell her in the way of itinerant preaching. 
But the 'Mission/ technically so termed, has always 
been a prominent feature of the Romish cultus, and so 
also has the religious ' Conference/ It may be that the 
idea has come recommended from more than one quarter. 
But of the Clerical Conference on Missions, to which the 
special service at St Paul's now to be described was 
introductory, it is certainly not too much to say that, as 
a combined method of action on the part of the Church 
of England, it was to a great extent new. 

Some years ago, when what came to be called the 
'Twelve Days' Mission' was organized, the movement 
got very much into the hands of one extreme party in 
the Church, and the tone of teaching was what would 
be loosely termed f High/ confession itself being freely 
advocated by one of the most prominent preachers of 
the Mission. It was essentially a party movement, and, 
no doubt in order to prevent this, the bishops who bear 


rule over the metropolis took time by tlie forelock, and 
issued the following invitation to a conference and 
preliminary service among tlie clergy of their dioceses : 

REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER, Assuming that you are 
prepared to take part in the Mission to he held in the metropolis 
in February next, we would earnestly invite you to join us in a 
special service of prayer and meditation to be held in St Paul's 
Cathedral on Tuesday, Nov. 4, at half-past eleven o'clock, and to 
be followed by a conference of incumbents, which will be held at 
King's College at half-past two. Coriscious as we must all be 
that the work we have set before us will, without Grod's blessing, 
be fruitless and futile indeed, let us in faith in the promises made 
to those who shall agree on earth as touching anything that they 
shall ask, unite our fervent prayers for a special outpouring of the 
Holy Ghost; for the quickening of the love of God and of the 
Lord Jesus in our own hearts and in those of our people ; for a 
deeper sense of the worth of immortal souls ; for more earnestness 
and self-denial in our efforts to win them for Christ ; and for a 
great gathering into the true fold of multitudes now wandering 
and lost in the ways of sin and death. It will not be possible to 
include our lay brethren in this service, but we would suggest to 
you the desirableness of inviting such of your parishioners or 
congregation as are prepared to assist you in the work of the 
Mission to a special celebration of the Holy Communion on the 
morning of November 4th, or on some morning in the same week. 

"We are, dear Brother, your faithful servants in Christ, 


London, October 21, 1873. T. L. ROCHESTER. 

A very large number of the London clergy responded 
to this appeal, and filled the whole space under the dome 
of St Paul's. There were men of every doctrinal section 
in the English Church. Among the first corners was Dr 
Nolan, with a large Evangelical contingent ; then came 
Father Lowder, attended by a following of quite an op- 
posite school of thought. Several laymen tried to enter 
the enclosure, which was jealously guarded for 'the 
clergy ; ' and one irrepressible Sister of Mercy, after being 
relegated to the foot of a pillar out of sight, pushed well 
to the front, and would not be satisfied until she got a 
seat somewhere near the reverend fathers. At half-past 
eleven the procession of choir and clergy entered from 
the sacristy. The boys were the only choristers present, 


and were followed by the prebendaries, minor canons, 
canons, and deans ; the rear being brought up by the. 
Bishops of London, "Winchester, and Rochester. 

The Bishop of London passed at once to the pulpit, 
the choir singing the ' Veni Creator/ at the conclusion 
of which his lordship read first the Collect, c Prevent us, 
0, Lord,' and then the one appointed for Whit Sunday, 
after which he proceeded at once to his address. 

The experience of the last three years, -said his lord- 
ship, in the way of special efforts towards the lost, had 
been that such efforts, where they did not interfere with 
parochial arrangements, had been largely blessed. They 
brought many into the fold ; and also, by their reflex 
action, quickened spiritual life in congregations, and even 
in communicants. There seemed no reason, then, why 
the bishops of the three dioceses included in the metro- 
polis should refuse to preside over their clergy in this 
special effort against unbelief. Of those three bishops, 
one gifted man, and his own dear friend, he said, had 
been suddenly called to his account but his part had 
been taken up by another dear friend, who had been 
called in God's providence to succeed to the vacant place. 
Experience also showed that the success of a mission de- 
pended on the care in its organization. Do we not, he 
asked, need preparation before we undertake such a 
work ? The object of the present gathering was, as it 
were, to strike the keynote of the Mission. He desired, 
then, to speak with his reverend brethren not as their 
bishop, but literally as their brother. Looking back 
some twenty-one years to the time when he was in charge 
of a large parish, he felt, if he were invited to share in 
such a work as this, two questions would at once occur. 
Have my ministrations failed ? If so, from what cause ? 
Who would venture to say that his ministrations, 
even in the smallest parish, had quifce succeeded, had 
been all that he could wish ? Not even the most faith- 
ful pastor had quite carried, out the ideal prescribed to 
him by the Church at his ordination. Then, with regard 
to the second question. ( I pray God,' said the Bishop 
with much feeling, '' that none of you, when you come to 


look back on a ministry of forty years, may find so much 
cause for humiliation as he who now addresses you/ As 
a general rule, defects, he said, varied more in degree 
than in kind ; and when we came to ask ourselves why 
as far as lay in ourselves we had failed, the answer 
would be, through want of faith and love faith in God, 
and love to Jesus Christ and the souls of our fellow-men. 

Take preaching, for instance. Did we, he asked, 
preach as if expecting that what we preached would do 
its work ? Did we believe that our hearers would be 
converted ? Don't we he plainly asked preach doubt- 
ingly ? So with the more important Krjpv-yna when we 
were speaking face to face with man, the sick or the 
sinful did we believe that what we said would go to the 
heart ? So, too, with prayers prayer with or for others. 
Did we believe that our prayers would be answered ? 
Did we throw ourselves on God ? Let us try ourselves 
by this test. Were we not surprised when our prayers 
were answered ? His lordship here told an apposite 
story of a clergyman who was called to the deathbed of 
a talented man that had imbibed sceptical ideas, who 
was, in fact, an unbeliever. He had to wait some time 
before he could see him, and occupied the interval in 
wrestling for him in prayer. When it expired, the sister 
of the dying man came down with joy on her face, 
and said, ' Oh ! he is praying praying hopefully ! ' The 
clergyman's heart swelled with gratitude, but he was 
surprised. And who of us, asked the Bishop, dare cast 
the first stone at him ? It might be said that this dis- 
trust savoured of humility ; but was it not rather the 
case that we trusted too much to ourselves and too little 
to God ? The Christian man's phylactery ought to be, 
' Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith 
the Lord/ We did not expect that God would perform 
physical miracles. God did not grant such evidence now. 
The greatest miracle of all was the work of the Holy 
Spirit in regeneration, conversion, sanctification, and 
salvation. The knowledge that they were doing God's 
will made the boldest ventures of faith reasonable. 

In eloquent periods the Bishop pictured the poor fallen 


sister staggering along the streets with, flushed cheeks ; 
the ignorant blasphemer under the railway arch or in the 
lecture-room vilifying the name of God, and, worse than 
all, the mere man or woman of the world living in care- 
lessness God would have all these to come to repent- 
ance. We never could aim at saving a soul without being 
in accord with the will of God. Let this, then, he 
urged, be our first prayer as we prostrated ourselves in 
silence, ' Lord, increase our faith.' 

Then there was a long pause for silent prayer perhaps 
the most impressive of all forms of worship, especially in 
the centre of a great city. The roar of London was 
around, and the slanting rays of the sun lit up the silent 
congregation as those hundreds of Christian ministers 
bent in unuttered prayer to God. 

Then, as the Bishop of Winchester passed from his 
stall to the pulpit, the choir sang the following hymn : 

Almighty Grod, Whose only Son 
O'er sin and death the triumph won, 
And ever lives to intercede 
For souls who Thy sweet mercy need. 

In His dear name to Thee we pray 
For all who err and go astray, 
For sinners, wheresoe'er they be, 
Who do not serve and honour Thee. 

There are who never yet have heard 
The tidings of Thy blessed Word, 
But still in heathen darkness dwell, 
Without one thought of heaven or hell ; 

And some within Thy sacred Fold 
To holy things are dead and cold, 
And waste tne precious nours of life 
In selfish ease, or toil, or strife ; 

And many a quickened soul within 
There lurks the secret love of sin ; 
A wayward will, or anxious fears, 
Or lingering taint of bygone years 

O give repentance true and deep 
To all Thy lost and wandering sheep, 
And kindle in their hearts the fire 
Of holy love and pure desire. 


That so from angel hosts above 

May rise a sweeter song of love, 

And we, with all the blest, adore 

Thy Name, God, for evermore. Amen. 

The Bishop of Winchester took for his subject the 
motive that should animate them in such a work as that 
in contemplation. The love of Jesus crucified, risen, and 
enthroned in Heaven inevitably resulted in love for all 
on behalf of whom Christ died. Yet he would ask 
whether the very refinement of Christian love did not 
sometimes make us loathe those we ought to love. 
Christianity had a civilizing and refining effect, and we 
might be led to shrink from contact with that which is 
polluted. We must try and school ourselves to love 
those amongst whom we laboured in mission work as 
ruined temples of God. All human nature was part of 
the nature of Christ Incarnate, but sin was no part of it. 
Each of those fallen was among those whom He came to 
save. He prayed for them on the Cross. He prays for 
them on the Throne. So must we school ourselves to 
love them. Love alone would find its way into the 
hearts of those we ought to save. Their lives, he said, 
were hard, and their natures impervious to fear or shame $ 
but not to love. Next to the instinct of food and 
warmth, the instinct of love was the most natural. 
Scarcely any were so lost as to be insensible to love. A 
chord might be struck in the darkest heart if there were 
a chord in unison with it on our part. The very worst 
case, perhaps, was those who had followed that counter- 
feit of love, ' lust, hard by hate/ yet the victims of this 
were sensible to love. When Howard was walking the 
streets, one of those wretched girls put her arm into his. 
He simply turned and said ' Poor creature ! ' and she 
burst into tears. We try police-courts, courts of justice, 
and penitentiaries, but how seldom love crept into the 
poor homes of our great cities ! Love never despaired. 
It alone could make us hope against hope. All had 
seen how, when a little one was given over to die, a 
mother would so hope, and the infant sometimes be 
spared to her. So would the Christian pastor tend 


those who to all others seemed hopeless. So he com- 
mended this to their hearts as the motive principle of 

Again followed the silent prayer and full-voiced hymn, 
which sounded grandly in its deep unison. Then the 
Bishop of Rochester ascended the pulpit, and delivered 
a most stirring and most thoroughly missionary address. 

These missions to the careless and perishing, he said 
both respectable and outcast in what conviction did 
they originate ? Perhaps in this, that though the Word 
had been preached to them with power and energy, 
yet it had been evident, as matter of experience, that 
something was needed to bring the Word closer 
home. Our eternal happiness and misery depended on 
oar relation to God. Preachers spoke to the listening 
crowd, but we needed something to speak to us as 
Nathan spoke to David, ( Thou art the man/ Sympathy 
was needed. This desire to help their fellow- sinners had 
brought them together that day. Then the missioners 
of the Church had met for their Lord's glory. The 
humblest, most distrustful man might do somewhat 
might find some poor soul travailing under a burden 
which he could lighten, and, by talking man with man, 
might win him over to Christ. Let them remember they 
were sent forth by ' the churches.' The presence of the 
three Bishops made this a Church mission. What could 
be less in accord with the world's mode of warfare than 
a mission ? Yet, by this simple strategy, it was expected 
to break up the strongholds of sin. What ! had we 
surveyed Pandemonium, where men assemble by troops 
in the harlot's house, the flaunting public-house, the 
temple of Mammon ? Yes, he answered all this we had 
seen. All were open to God's eye, and His word revealed 
them to us, and at the same time told us that there was 
in all these sinners a sense of disquietude. In the very 
worst there was Jove, as in the woman in Simon's house. 
To these, said the Bishop, we go. The result was in 
God's hands ; ours to go forth in the power of Him who 
did not strive or cry, but won His victory by gentleness, 
love, and patience, The Bishop concluded a very eloquent 


address by a graphic reference to the work of Him whom 
it is not irreverent to call the first Missioner. 

The service a very exceptional one indeed for the 
metropolitan cathedral concluded with the Lord's 
Prayer, which was said, not sung, by the Bishop of 
London and congregation, and the Apostolic benediction 
also pronounced by the same prelate. 

In the afternoon there took place the conference of 
incumbents at King's College, pursuant to notice. From 
this the laity and inferior clergy were rigidly excluded, 
the object being presumably to decide on the details of 
the mission work. Thus far, everything had been of the 
most practical kind, and so gave the best promise of 
success for the work. 


Thus, with an esoteric gathering, began the London 
Mission in the various churches of the metropolis. The 
previous ' Twelve Days' Mission ' of 1869 was an event 
which had been up to that time undreamed of in the 
philosophy of the Church of England, and, by an acci- 
dental mismanagement, was on that occasion allowed to 
fall very much into the hands of one party in the Estab- 
lishment. Possibly that might have been the reason 
why the idea then inaugurated has so long apparently 
lain dormant. Now that it has been revived, the results 
of its long gestation are apparent ; it has come forth not 
only with episcopal sanction, but under the more or less 
active superintendence of the Bishops of the three 
dioceses comprised within the limits of the metropolis 
London, Winchester, and Rochester. These prelates, as 
mentioned above, held a special preliminary service some 
months before in Paul's Cathedral, and warmly com- 
mended the work of the Mission both to clergy and laity. 
The present Mission, as I have said, now actually com- 
menced, and continued during the Octave. Friday was 
the Great Day of the Preparation, when the work was 
appropriately commenced by a long series of services and 
addresses in the metropolitan cathedral. These services, 


which were for the clergy only, commenced with a cele- 
bration of Holy Communion at 8.30 A.M., followed by 
Morning Prayer at 10, and a second celebration at 11. 
These earlier proceedings, I am sorry to say, I neglected ; 
but at noon I groped amid the fog to the north door of 
the cathedral, and having replied satisfactorily to the 
challenge of the janitor as to whether I was ' a ' 
reverend gentleman/ I entered and found the .area 
under the dome already dotted over with that always 
heterogeneous assemblage the clergy of the Church of 

Here entered successively the Ritualist in his trailing 
cassock, surmounted either by ' priest's cloak ' or more 
mundane greatcoat, and all the varied sections of the 
Establishment marked broadly by expanse of shirt front 
and breadth of white tie, culminating in the M.B. waist- 
coat and Roman band. Among the congregation one 
saw the faces of many well-known missioners and 
London clergy. The Bishops of London and Roches- 
ter took their seats amongst us the congregation 
and at 12.30 the Rev W. H. Milman, in surplice, 
hood, and stole, conducted the missioner to the pulpit, 
and took his own seat in the choir. The ' Yeni Creator ' 
was sung the High Church party kneeling', the rest 
standing, and the Bishops among the latter. Then 
the preacher, the Rev. W. Walshain How, monotoned 
three collects, and forthwith proceeded to his ser- 
mon. Taking his text from the Second Epistle to 
Timothy, he eloquently described the strength of the foe 
with whom battle was to be done in this Mission, and 
the weakness of the instrumentality to be employed, 
except so far as it was strong through the Crucified. 
From Him came to us, when we knelt before His cross, 
the spirit of Strength and Love. He deprecated the 
going forth in mere power, or hope of success, and ad- 
vocated love even for the unlovable, the cold, the rough, 
the repulsive. God grant, he said, they might be 
brought face to face with such. So would their love be 
tried. The picture of the love of Christ brought home 
to such a soul was consummately drawn, and, in conclu- 


sion, it was strongly urged that ' sobermindedness 3 was 
not to be suspended even during mission work. Excite- 
ment might be used by God to awaken the slumbering 
soul ; but there was danger lest such an element might 
become excessive, and entail a dangerous reaction. 
Intense, but very calm, devotion was a tone more fruit- 
ful of good than one of somewhat unguarded excitement, 
such as was not quite unknown in mission work. There 
was a danger lest critics might deem the work un- 
English, and against these they must be on their guard. 
He concluded his brief but eloquent address with a 
special prayer for that one element of sobermindedness 
about which he clearly was somewhat in doubt. Three 
collects and the Apostolic benediction were succeeded 
by a long interval of silent prayer, during which the 
contrast of the roar of London city outside, at its very 
busiest hour, was most significant in comparison with 
the stillness that reigned around. Among the very first 
to rise from their knees and pass out at the south door 
were the two Bishops. 

Returning from my brief refreshment amid the fogs 
of Ludgate Hill, I re-entered, now unchallenged by the 
doorkeeper, who was relentlessly driving the lay people 
from his portal why, I could scarcely understand. 
Inside it looked quite like a foreign church to notice the 
clergy prostrate in silent prayer, or intent upon a book 
of devotion. "Was that widening of the space outside 
the cathedral typical of a kindred process going on 
within the walls of the Establishment ? 

At two o'clock the Rev. W. H. Chapman, chaplain of 
the Lock Hospital, entered, accompanied only by the 
verger; and after we had sung the hymn called 'Rock 
of Ages/ he proceeded, without taking a text, to con- 
sider the hindrances to the Mission, especially that 
resulting from the personality and special characteristics 
of Satan the God of this world. Whenever special 
effort was being made, Satan's power would be put forth 
principally against God's ministers. Whenever the Holy 
Ghost worked, Satan worked side by side, and his power 
was felt. Faith in the written Word of God was the 


only weapon to overcome these hindrances. Satan never 
could stand up against the plain statements of the Word 
of God. This sermon, which was of Evangelical tone, 
was preached with much fervour, the preacher leaning 
right forward on the cushion of the pulpit, until he 
seemed in danger of falling over among his congrega- 

The three-o'clock address was given by the Rev. G. 
Body, who left such mark on the Mission of 1869, and 
who has lost none of his former fire by his subsequent 
preferment. Having given out the beautiful hymn, 
' When I survey the wondrous cross/ which was heartily 
sung by us, where, he asked, could we better meet for 
such a work as this than on Calvary, whereupon, as on 
this day and as at this hour, the great Sacrifice was 
consummated ? ' Brothers/ he said, ' let us go to Cal- 
vary ! In the contemplation of the Passion we best learn 
the secrets of mission work.' He then went through 
some of the utterances on the Cross. Christ thirsts, he 
said, thirsts for the tears of penitents. Jesus, as one 
with the Father, yearns for the return of prodigals. 
This was mission work; to seek the good of men that 
God might be glorified thereby to satisfy the thirst, the 
loving thirst, of God, by speaking to men the one name 
of Jesus ; not speaking mere doctrines, but revealing a 
personal Saviour. We had to tell men of the love of 
Jesus crucified, risen, and ascending. Have much faith 
in preaching. Strike the rock and the waters shall gush 
out to slake the thirst of God. Tell the old, old story. 
The name of Jesus is mighty as ever. Don't work 
yourselves up, or try to work others up, to a state of 
excitement; but tell the old plain story. Conversion, 
we must remember, is the direct work of the Holy Spirit, 
and cannot be forced. We must go forth in simple de- 
pendence on that, and then wait calmly and patiently. 
Among the qualifications for Missioners, he specified, 
first of all reverence reverence for the souls amongst 
whom they ministered ; reverence for the Sacred Name 
and Sacred Mystery. The prayers and Eucharists of 
England, he said, were concentrated on the London 


Churches. Secondly, there was need of confidence 
confidence, blended with humility, in realized weakness, 
but confidence in the Sacred Heart. Thirdly, he added, 
go forth in patience. Don't make up a fictitious excite- 
ment. If success seems delayed, throw thyself with all 
thy disappointment at the foot of the Cross. Lastly, go 
forth in thanksgiving, fighting beneath the Blood-red 
banner against the foes of the Cross. Finally, there 
must be now, as in Pentecostal times, the Baptism of 
the Holy Ghost. The congregation vergers and all 
seemed fairly taken by surprise with the fervid eloquence 
of this marvellous preacher, which, I remember, had the 
same effect upon me at the last Mission, and made me 
follow him from church to church with the ardour of a 

Evensong was said at four o'clock, and an address 
subsequently delivered by the Rev. W. Haslam; the 
series concluding with one by the Eev. Father Benson, 
Superior of the Cowley Fathers, at six o'clock. 

In sharp, ringing voice, Father Benson said we must, 
as mission priests, keep before our eyes the sight of 
Jesus at the right hand of God. The Throne of God is 
the centre of all His Church's action, wherever an 
apostolical ministry is labouring in His name. Let us 
realize this gaze of the soul on Jesus as the source of 
our power. Ours is no mere Jewish ministry, bat a 
ministry of the Resurrection life, moving in its reality 
in the midst of this great city. We must go forth in 
this triumphant power, conscious that our whole being 
is instinct with His life. How can our ministry be of 
any use else ? Think what it is to be the representative 
of Christ among benighted people ! This demands o 
us to separate ourselves from all that is not of Him. 
We come hither as the prophet came to Nineveh. He 
went on the strength of his three days' burial, and came 
forth in the strength of his resurrection life, and struck 
Nineveh dumb. So in the power of a like burial we go 
forth (one could not help suspecting a side reference to 
the monastic life in these words). We must live as 
those who are dead to the world and alive to God. If 


we call others, we must realize it in our own persons. 
We must not sink back into .the old world, .which would 
put the drag upon our efforts, and take all the fire from 
our words. Let us between this and Sunday seek to 
realize that burial to earthly things which must precede 
the resurrection life. We stand here as the angels of 
the resurrection, as ourselves partakers of the death of 
Christ, and having passed into His resurrection. This 
is the grace of our baptism, a death unto sin, and a new 
birth unto righteousness. 

The sermon, redolent of the very e highest ' thought, 
and full of ascetic sentiment, was intently listened to by 
a congregation which -was evidently, to a great degree, 
sympathetic with the preacher. Canon Gregory, I 
noticed, was among the hearers. 

Sunday morning, though nominally the opening of 
the Mission, may properly be included in the prepara- 
tion ; for in few churches was the work definitely com- 
menced until the evening in fact, the Mission, as a 
whole, is far more a matter of week-day than Sunday 

At 9.30 on Sunday morning I attended a very inter- 
esting preliminary service in the Riding School of the 
Knightsbridge Barracks, where the Rev. T. Teignmouth 
Shore, of Berkeley Chapel, May fair, addressed the 1st 
Life Guards on the subject of the Mission. After a brief 
service, which was taken by the Rev. J. A. Crozier, 
Chaplain to the Forces, and the musical portion of which 
was admirably performed by the regimental band, Mr 
Shore spoke a few manly words to the Guardsmen, who 
were ranged four deep round the building, exhorting 
them to attend the services at Berkeley Chapel, and not 
to deem it unmanly to be religious. His words were 
listened to with the most respectful attention, and he 
seemed to make a deep impression. The whole service 
and sermon occupied less' than an hour; after which I 
adjourned to St Barnabas, Pimlico, where the Vicar 
preached to a large congregation on the subject of the 
Mission, which in this church was to be conducted by 
the Revs. R. M. Benson and Francis D. Bagshawe. 



So ended the prologue to the drama that is, let me 
explain, the speaking before the action of the Mission 
of 1874. 


If, as has been perhaps satirically said, the chief object 
of a Mission is to make people go to church, it succeed- 
ed to a marvel in my case. I lived in church, and 
breathed an atmosphere redolent of sermons, during the 
week. The impression remaining on my mind was a 
somewhat commonplace one. The clergy of the Church 
of England had, no doubt, gone manfully in for the 
Mission ; but, save in one or two isolated cases, the 
result seemed to have been scarcely more than a lot of 
Sundays rolled into one. The sermons were scarcely 
above the average, and fell more or less flat on the con- 
gregations. Indeed, it was difficult to find in the thing 
itself the excitement we could discern on paper from 
the day when the Rev. Harry Jones dropped his bomfc- 
shell into the camp by declaring that he stood aloof al- 
together from the Mission on principle, as being sensa- 
tional or else nothing. I can fully endorse Mr Jones's 
vaticination as far as my observation goes. Where the 
Confessional was advocated, or Revivalism aimed at, an 
effect was produced. Elsewhere the old proverb was 
realized the mountain laboured, and a mouse was the 
ridiculous result. A conspicuous case in point was that 
of Dr Lee, at All Saints', New Cut. I went thither on 
Wednesday evening, and found the usual elaborate 
service with procession being performed in presence of 
a mere handful of people. Dr Lee preached, and 
brought to an abrupt conclusion the ' apparently unsuc- 
cessful mission/ He told them they would have -no 
1 ranting or roaring 3 there, nothing sensational ; and, 
ecce signum ! as far as present and perceptible results 
are concerned, the Mission was abortive, and I wasted 
an evening. 

St James's, Norland Square, Bayswater, struck me as 
being one of the most successfully worked of the West- 


end parochial Missions. The incumbent, the Rev. Gr. T. 
Palmer, personally visited the public-houses, and got a 
great many people, at all events, to come to church. 
He had three Mission priests working with him, and 
averaged 50 communicants at the 7 o'clock celebration, 
while as many as 700 children were present at the after- 
noon services. The church of St John the Evangelist, , 
Kensington (Rev. Gr. Booker), also took an active part 
in the Mission, and gathered large congregations. 
Visiting the handsome church of All Saints,, Kensington 
Park, so famous for its musical services, I found that 
the vicar, the Rev. John Light, was only commencing 
the Mission on Thursday parochial arrangements 
having prevented his doing so before. He had just re- 
tired to the Choristers' School-house to live f in com- 
munity ' during the Mission. The well-known preacher, 
the Rev. Gr. C. L. Dunbar, D.D., was taking the special 
sermons in the Mission chapel. Two Mission priests, 
the Rev. J. M. Conolly, curate of Tilehurst, Berks, and 
the Rev. J. R. Buchanan, vicar of Herne, Kent, were 
working in the church. The latter gentleman com- 
menced with a course of children's 'services, in which he 
took as his subject the ' Knowledge of good and evil/ 
which he treated so as to secure the interest of a very 
large number of children, whom he also catechized, re- 
ceiving very intelligent answers from them. 

My experiences of the Low Church party had not 
been, so far, felicitous. I fancied I might take St 
John's, Paddington, as a typical church, and the vicar, 
the Rev. Emilius Bayley, as a representative man on the 
Evangelical side. Accordingly on the Tuesday morning 
I journeyed due west, and sought the church in question. 
I confess to being attracted also by a promising list of 
preachers, among whom were included the Archbishop 
of York and the Rev. William Cadman, of Trinity 
Church, Marylebone; while the Mission preacher was 
the Rev. C. D. Marston, who succeeded Mr Cap el 
Molyneux at St Paul's, Onslow Square. It was a bitter 
morning, and I was obliged to array myself in over- 
coat and respirator. Whether this exercised the mind 


of the pew-opener or not I do not know ; but the im- 
pression which that good lady left with me was, that I 
was not expected at St John's and had better have 
stopped away. The cavernous pews were rigidly ap- 
propriated to their respective owners, very few of whom 
put in an appearance, and those in the proportion of 
about one man to ten women most of them elderly, 
and many, I fancy, unmarried. The free seats, of which 
there are very few, were about two-thirds full, and the 
pew-opener motioned me to one of these close to the 
door and full in the draught. I pointed to my respirator, 
and asked if she could not give me a seat, but she was 
inexorable, and only moved me a row or two higher in 
the free seats. The sermon was on ' Consecration/ and 
was preached by the Eev. W. H. Chapman, minister of 
the Lock Chapel; but, as I have already reported this 
gentleman's address at St Paul's Cathedral, I need not 
say more here than that I do not think it would have 
'converted' me, and I am sure it could not possibly 
have excited any one, while the service was of the most 
depressing character, the responses being made by two 
charity children in the organ loft, and the singing of the 
mildest possible description. At Quebec Chapel my 
reception was very different. There the whole edifice 
was thrown open to chance comers, an arrangement 
which I had thought to be of the very essence of a 
Mission service. But it was neither High nor Low that 
I had elected to make my piece de resistance. Both 
High and Low had shaken their heads ominously when 
I mentioned the Rev. Llewellyn Davies, of Christ Church, 
Lisson Grove, and assured me I should find lay preachers 
in full possession there. Dim visions of Dr Max Miiller, 
I confess, did float through my mind as I sought the 
sylvan retirement, but no lay preachers were there. Mr 
Davies, though a Broad Churchman, had not gone out 
of town, and had complied with the injunction to keep 
Mission by having special evening sermons by dis- 
tinguished clergymen not laymen. The one I heard 
was the Rev. Dr Abbott, Head Master of the City of 
London School ; and as his subject was the exceedingly 


interesting one of education, I thought I might go 
farther and fare worse, so I stayed. The preacher for 
the following evening was the Bishop of Manchester. 
Evensong was sung at 8.30 such a bright, cheerful 
service, with Tallis's responses done in first-rate style by 
a full choir. The congregation was a large one, includ- 
ing many substantial middle-class folks, and a large 
number of poor: altogether more like a Mission gather- 
ing than any I had seen. CJad in an M.A. gown, Dr 
Abbott gave out as his text the Fifth Commandment, 
1 Honour thy father and thy mother/ He deprecated 
the idea that this commandment was ' wasted ' because 
many of us had lost our parents. It spoke to parents 
as well as children, bidding them deserve the respect 
of their children. He would confine his attention to 
one point viz., education. He would narrow the term 
to mere school teaching, and point out the duty of 
parents in this respect. He showed the fallacy of draw- 
ing a contrast between ' book-learning 3 and good 
character ; and eloquently pleaded in favour of the 
' three B/s/ He talked colloquially without any notes, 
and quite carried his congregation along with him by 
his plain words. He claimed reading and writing as 
being almost additional senses. Satan found some 
mischief still for idle hands to do, and teaching a child 
to read was to arm him against temptation. Reading 
might be turned to evil purposes, true ; but, looking to 
the grand works of English authors, we must feel there 
was vastly more good than evil. As a matter of fact we 
know from the statistics of crime that all but a small 
percentage were unable to read and write. What 
was the education of the streets, he asked (pertinently 
enough in Lisson Grove), and was not that the only 
alternative to the education in school ? It was more 
true in London than in the country that to be idle is to 
be sinful. No doubt they were obliged to send children 
to school now ; but he dwelt strongly on the necessity 
of regularity in attendance. There might be other 
remedies not resting with parents, but he believed that 
the great difficulty rested with the parents, and he be- 


sought tliem to do all they could to form a healthy- 
public opinion in their neighbourhood, so as to keep the 
children regular and make them do their work. The 
affectionate sympathy of a father or mother might help 
a child wonderfully. To this was owing much of the 
superiority of the Scotch schools as well as to the ex- 
cellence of the institutions themselves. ' Thrice happy/ 
he said,, 'is the nation where mothers thus aid by 
sympathy and example in the education of their children/ 
I may be right or wrong I think I am right, of 
course but this seemed to me more in keeping with 
the real spirit of an Anglican Mission service than any 
amount of sacerdotal ' direction/ or any fervid efforts at 
' revival ' a plain manly appeal to the first duty of 
a parent, and especially a poor parent ; and, as I came 
out, I felt extremely grateful to Mr Davies that he had 
not gone out of town, or, if he did so, returned in time 
to keep, at all events, something in the shape of a 
Mission Service at Christ Church, Lisson Grove. 


I have been all along reserving the right, if any 
service, sermon, or ceremony of the present Mission 
should seem to rise above the prevailing dead level, 
to chronicle such in my running 1 commentary. Rightly 
or wrongly, I believe such a crisis has arrived; if my 
own sympathies and predilections dp not quite go along 
with it, that is a secondary and purely irrelevant matter. 
My mission is emphatically to describe, not to pass 
judgment, or even act as advocate. 

On Saturday evening, attracted by what I had heard 
of midnight Argyll audiences at St Peter's, Windmill 
Street, I set out, early in the evening, to ' prospect ' in 
that direction ; and found that, by what I consider an 
error of judgment, there was to be no midnight service 
on Saturday. At that particular time the supper-houses 
and other places would have been shut, and there would 
have been no counter-attractions to the missioned 
work. So it was, however, the fiat had gone forth. 


There was to be no 11.30 service on Saturday. Foiled 
in my immediate purpose, I acted like the man who, 
having lost his way, gives his horse the rein and 
trusts to its guidance. Chance led me to the church of 
S. Thomas, Regent Street, nee Archbishop Tenison's 
Chapel, where I heard what I have every reason to 
believe a .distinctive service; certainly one which inter- 
eoted me greatly, and seemed in its degree characteristic- 
of one aspect of the Mission. S. Thomas's may be 
Eay, it had better 'own the soft impeachment, is ugly. 
It is an instance of a conventicle that has striven to 
become Ritualistic, which always more or less resembles 
that monstruin our bucolic friends describe in their 
peculiar phrase as an ' old lamb dressed ewe-fashion' 
I mean an elderly spinster arrayed in the latest mode. 
Tenison's Chapel pretended to be nothing more than a 
preaching- shop. S. Thomas (I purposely omit the f t' 
in Saint) is of the most pronounced Ritualistic type 
a very coryphaeus in the rising' generation of c advanced ' 
churches. Its walls and ceiling are ' flatted ' red, white, 
and blue in a way which brings its native ugliness into 
prominence, much as do the rings and bedizeriinents of 
the dowager above-mentioned, But the sacrarium and 
altar redeem, or are meant to redeem, everything, and 
cover a multitude of sins. The Holy Table was vested 
in black on Saturday night, and eight tapers were 
standing on it, divided by the central cross, and flanked 
with two huge bougies at the north and south ends. 
The deep galleries down the chapel looked incongruous 
enough; but they served to remind us that all the 
beauty was focussed and concentrated in the chancel. 
Perhaps they were meant to. 

I entered at 8 P.M the service being at 8.30, with a 
second service at 11 ' for women only.' A fair congre- 
gation already dotted the chapel, many women and a few 
men ; and groups of choristers in cassocks were chatting 
in rather an irreverent and unmission-like way in the 
aisles. Station pictures of no very high order .of art 
decorated the walls ; and altogether staid old Tenison's 
Chapel was in a very advanced condition indeed ; how 


changed from the time when the oratory of Lawrell was 
a sufficient attraction ! At 8.15 a demure young mati 
lighted six out of the eight tapers on the altar, to which 
he bowed with that strange shamefaced air Ritualists 
adopt in their genuflexions as compared with Roman 
Catholics, much in the same way as the salutation of an 
Englishman to the dame au comptoir of a restaurant differs 
from that of the Parisian ' to the manner born/ Ai 
service time a procession of twenty-four filed from the 
west end, consisting of the Rev. W. J. Richardson, the 
minister, Rev. Mr Steele, assistant, and Mr Knox-Little, 
the missioner, the rest being choristers. A metrical 
Litany was sung by Mr Steele and two acolytes kneeling 
in front of the altar, the choir and congregation taking 
the alternate verses. It was a bright, sparkling composi- 
tion in six-eight time, very effective and appropriate. A 
few Collects followed, and then the Miserere or Psalm 51, 
all devoutly kneeling, and singing to a Gregorian tune. 
Several taking hymns were interpolated at different in- 
tervals ; amongst them the favourite, ' Daily, daily sing 
the praises ; ' and the Mission service was over. The 
missioner, Mr Knox-Little, passed to the pulpit, and 
taking as his text the words ' I will arise and go to my 
Father' (Luke xv. 18), said that the Christian life was 
one not of feeling only but of action. Ib was a change 
of posture ; an energetic advance to the Father. This 
special occasion, he reminded them, involved great 
obligations, as it offered great privileges. To all the 
different calls that had been made during life, this one 
was now added. I could not fail to notice the immense 
fluency of the preacher, with the absence of all exag'gera- 
tion, and the mode in which he riveted the attention of 
a large congregation ; for such had ours now grown to 
be. The women's seats were full : the men's nearly so ; 
and the men were quite as attentive as the women. 
Christian life, he repeated, was not a mere dream or 
picture. It was being realized around us in all ages and 
stations. We ought to take God's call as a great reality, 
and make a responsive advance. There was one induce- 
ment which it might savour of commonplace to urge, but 


which lie could not pass over. In the silence of night 
and in the crowd, when we were thinking or when we 
were waking, the thought would come that this could 
not possibly go on long. It might be commonplace, but 
every one of us had to face the great fact of death. 
' Don't ask me/ he said, ' then, why you should change 
your posture ; why you should advance towards God. 
Ask rather the hindrances/ These he specified as pride, 
covetousness, pleasure, indifference ; and followed up 
with a fervid and impetuous call to confession. ' Con- 
fession/ he said, f was an act of the Incarnate leading 
the soul to God. To hold back, if God calls, was most 
dangerous to the spiritual life. If there were secrets on 
the soul, and God gave the chance of speaking them out 
and getting absolution, then to hold back was the most 
terrible danger, and involved the most terrible responsi- 
bilities.'' ' Don't hold back/ he kept repeating when 
the end of the Mission had come, then would be the time 
for making resolutions. If God has, in the course of it, 
said ' Confess/ then don't hold back. In the name of 
your Creator, don't hold back. If you do, the blood of 
Jesus has been shed in vain. That was the one question. 
Have I had that message in the Mission ? if so, am I 
holding back ? If that were the case he would say, go 
home and fall on your knees, and say, ' Iwill hold back 
no longer/ Hold back, and that truth will haunt you 
in the shape of the word that man spoke to you at the 
Mission. If we accept it, all the world may argue, men 
may ridicule or persecute, public opinion may scoff, but 
it would not matter to us. 

The preacher's manner, whatever we might think of his 
matter, was perfect, his oratory fluent, his action telling 
but unexaggerated, and all bearing the stamp of sincere 
feeling. - Of course the question remained Was the 
doctrine un-English or not ? But I am describing only. 
He concluded with a fervent extempore prayer, and gave 
notice that he would add a brief instruction on ' Medita- 
tion as a mode of deepening the spiritual life ^ to such 
as thought tit to remain after the service. It was twenty 
minutes to ten, but scarcely a score of people left the 


church., and soon after the procession had filed out, the 
missioner and Mr Steele returned arrayed in their cas- 
socks, and several of the choir in the same habit. A 
hymn was sung, and Mr Knox-Little advanced to the 
centre of the chancel, where he walked up and down 
while delivering his instruction. This was a telling and 
aesthetic account of meditation considered in the light of 
mental prayer. He deprecated the custom of ' reading 
a chapter/ which so many good people did, as though it 
were a sort of charm. Meditation was a perfect system, 
and might be made quite ' business-like/ He sketched 
separately at some length the Preparation, the Prelude, 
the Divisions of the Subject, the Acts of Meditation. It 
was necessary to place oneself earnestly in God's 
presence ; to realize one's f creatureliness ; ' to resign 
oneself into God's hands, to make the meditation what 
He would ; to adore God ; to seek the breath of the 
Holy Spirit. This, he said, sounded long ; but it would 
take about half a minute, It was simply making medi- 
tation a real act instead of a mere dream. Then fol- 
lowed the Fruits of Meditation, the chief of which was 
to do something or leave something undone that day for 
God : to be strongly on the watch against some definite 
sin. The great danger of religion was indefiniteness : 
the great value of the Catholic Faith was that it was so 
definite; that it made God and Christ and the saints 
and angels real persons ; that it gave a real Presence in 
the Sacrament, that it made the Priest real, and the 
Blessed Sacrament of the Altar real too. It was an age of 
appearances in secular and religious life. Meditation 
gave definiteness to the latter. It made the Unseen 
World a place in which we actually lived, made ths 
Christian a creature living in two worlds, and gaining im- 
mense strength from the fact of walking with the saints 
and angels. He concluded by a renewed invitation to 
confession. The missioners would be in church all 
Monday, not only to receive formal confession, but to 
talk over difficulties with such as cared to consult them. 
The special service for women took place at eleven ; 
but men were rigidly excluded. Two stout policemen 


took up their stations at the door to enforce this 
regulation. I was informed that the attendance had 
been good, and many girls had been rescued and placed 
in homes, as many as twelve in one evening. On the 
Monday there was to be an outdoor procession at 7.30 
in the streets immediately around the church, to get 
people to come to the service; and the Mission closed, 
with a Celebration the next morning. 


It is, I suppose, only another instance of men being 
better than their creeds when I am able to state that, 
though the Ritualistic preachers have over and over 
again stated that it was a blessed thing to be persecuted 
by the press, still, directly I stated my wish to be 
present and report the services ' for women only,' and 
from which men are, as I stated, rigidly excluded, each 
of the priests to whom I applied, courteously nay, 
even anxiously requested me to come, and afforded 
every facility' for seeing without being seen. The 
West-end women, even more than their East-end sisters, 
are naturally sensitive as to being ' reported ; ' and on 
all hands this feature of the Mission requires most 
delicate treatment. 

I paid, then, first of all, a morning visit to each of 
the two churches which have combined for this raid on 
Regent Street namely, St Peter's, Windmill Street, 
next door to the Argyll Rooms, and St Thomas's, late 
Archbishop Tenison's Chapel. In each I found the 
missioners hard at wor^:. At St Peter's, the Rev. 
Stephen Grladstone, son of the then Premier, was in 
earnest converse with a man who bore the appearance 
of an artisan. In St Thomas's a bearded priest was in 
the same position with a middle-aged female; while 
several younger women were waiting for an interview. 
The Rev. Edward Steele was sitting in the vestry for 
the same purpose ; and, in each case, I must in justice 
say that the mere mention of the avowedly obnoxious 
press was sufficient at once to- gain me the entree I 


solicited. I was anxious, however, first of all to see 
the Mission doing out-of-door work; and for that 
purpose repaired to St Thomas's Church at half-past 
seven for a preliminary excursus through the streets 
prior to the last Mission service, the object of such 
sortie being principally to collect a congregation; though, 
no doubt, in a secondary degree, to get at those who 
will not come to church at all. A somewhat angry 
mob surrounded the door of the church, and were 
making remarks, more pointed than polite, on the 
Ritualists in general, and the confessional in particular. 
The idea of a procession was wisely abandoned, for one 
plain-spoken gentleman gave notice that if they brought 
any of ' them rags' out, he would ' pitch into 'em, if he 
got locked up for it.' So we went out two and two to 
a spot agreed upon down a back-street. e I am afraid 
there will be a row,' said the vicar. 'Then let's have a 
row,' answered the plucky curate. We met at the 
appointed rendezvous where a Windsor chair was forth- 
coming ; and before people knew what he was about, 
Mr Steele had popped on a pocket surplice and mounted 
his rostrum. A hymn was sung, and he preached a 
sermonette appropriate to the occasion. The people 
were quiet ; some impressed, others inclined to suggest 
that the gentleman was in his shirt sleeves ; but the 
assembly was quite divided ; and when he made a 
touching reference to a mother's prayers having gone 
up to Heaven for many of those present, I saw rough 
women moved to tears, and even men were disposed to 
concede that ' the feller warn't a-doing any harm/ 
Perhaps his greatest coup of all was when he said, ' I 
dare say many of you ain't Church of England people ; 
but I don't care* for that. Perhaps some of you are 
Wesleyans ; I hope you are.' He scored a point there ; 
but lost it again when he kissed the crucifix at the end 
of his short discourse. As we passed from post to post, 
marching to the tune of f Daily, daily,' along the un- 
fragrant streets and alleys, the noise increased ; but it 
was made entirely by small boys, and, of course, the 
smaller the lad the more noise he made. One halting- 


place was near the scene of a recent fatal fire ; and Mr 
Steele pressed that fact cleverly into his service. He 
was a man not to be howled down on any account, or 
by any number of infinitesimal boys. There was an 
immense congregation collected for the eight o'clock 
service, and the gentleman who had elected to be locked 
up contented himself with howling ' confessional } as 
Mr Steele passed him on re-entering the church. Dis- 
cretion is so often the better part of valour. But it is 
eleven o'clock, and the bell is ringing for the late 
service 'for women only; men rigidly excluded;' yet 
are there not, as Sydney Smith said, three sexes, ' men, 
women, and clergymen ' ? I am a clergyman, and enter 
unchallenged. There were very few women present at 
eleven -o' clock ; but a good many cassocked priests and 
Sisters in their habits. When a girl did enter she was 
pounced down upon, perhaps a little too suddenly, by 
several Sisters at once ; but they entered quite readily 
into conversation; and, in fact, did not seem so much 
alarmed as I think I should have been myself, under 
the circumstances. The ' Miserere ' was first sung 
painfully out of tune (perhaps to express penitence) ; 
then the Collect for the First Sunday in Advent was 
read, and the ever-recurrent ' Daily, daily,' sung; and 
afterwards Mr Steele gave some exceedingly good 
advice to those present. I wish I could think his words 
went home. I passed out shall I own it ? disap- 
pointed. I could scarcely deem the service at St 
Thomas's a success ; and I fancy I can, without lack of 
charity, explain the cause. There were too many 
Sisters, and they were too forward in their attentions. 
I think we men could have managed matters better 
much- as I believe in 'woman's mission to woman/ I 
was not surprised to hear the Vicar say that the ' girls ' 
had begun to tire of the services. Magdalene is a very 
difficult subject to deal with ; and I doubt whether they 
have the best method at St Thomas's. So I passed 
along that Pandemonium, the lower part of Regent 
Street, formerly called the Quadrant, and could not 
help wondering how many years of Missions or Sessions 


of Parliamentary legislation it would take to cleanse 
that plague-spot. St Peter's has indeed bearded the 
lion in his den ; for it is next door to the chief casino 
of London, the band of which seemed to play me into 
church as I passed the sacred portal. ' Father 5 Pres- 
cott, of the Society of St John at Cowley, was reciting- 
the ordinary Mission service, and there was a fair con- 
gregation, numbering many of the obnoxious sex, while 
cassocked priests dotted the whole church over. The 
service was succeeded by a long interval of silent prayer, 
during which I could distinctly hear the thud of the 
contra-bassi in the next building, the tune of the dances, 
and eventually the noise of the roysterers as they passed 
from their revelry, most of them to supper, but some 
to church. It was a strange contrast, worth sitting-up 
once in a way into the small hours to witness. 

At midnight- we sang on our knees, and too dolefully 
withal, the hymn 

Lord, in this Thy mercy's day, 

Ere it pass for ay.e away, 

On our knees we fall and pray. 

Soon after twelve they came in, a motley gathering 
girls and young men with them : for the restriction 
' For women only/ was waived last night, and still the 
same mistake. Wherever a giggling girl settled, an 
estimable lady in a poke bonnet came and settled too, 
and the poke bonnet made the girls giggle more. 
Father Prescott commenced his address by giving the 
girls addresses of the ladies -who would attend them in 
any sickness or difficulty, and then gave out a hymn, 
which was sung to an incongruous accompaniment of 
loud laughter as fresh bevies of girls came pouring in. 
There was, at all events, no lack of congregation here. 
Then followed the address by an exceedingly uninter- 
esting, but I have no doubt estimable, gentleman. He 
took as his subject, ' Christ, the Good Shepherd/ and 
talked to his congregation as though they had been 
children which they were not. Decidedly the best 
portion of his brief sermon was where he claimed that 


the same ban that rested on them, his dear e children/ 
should rest on those who had led them to it. I had 
hoped much from this aspect of the Mission, and am 
sorry to feel it possible it may have failed. 


So, then, for one more year the brief campaign against 
Sin and Satan was over, and it remained only to sing 
the paean of victory if victory it shall have been. Once 
again, despite my late exercises of the preceding night, 
I adjourned, to end as I had begun, by imbibing the 
genius loci at St PauPs Cathedral, where the Thanksgiving 
Service was celebrated immediately after ten o' clock 
morning prayer. A vast congregation filled the whole 
space under the dome, though morning service had only 
just begun when I got there. Here mustered the ladies 
literally f in their thousands/ and the ' frequent ' cleric 
lent an air of sanctity to the scene if that were neces- 
sary. Prayers over, the vergers passed around papers 
containing the order of the service, from which docu- 
ments I could not help observing even the faintest allu- 
sion to the Mission was conspicuously and significantly 
absent. Was it possible the authorities were ashamed 
of their bantling ? After the service enter a procession 
of three the preacher (the Rev. Gr. H. Wilkinson, of St 
Peter's, Eaton Square), chaperoned by two canons one, 
of course, being Canon Gregory no bishops now, no 
dean, ' no pomp and circumstance of glorious war ; ' only 
two canons and a verger ! I had expected a big proces- 
sion, and dignitaries in abundance. Was it not a ' lame 
and impotent conclusion } for so great a work ? 

Hymn 320 of the Ancient and Modern Collection was 
sung. ' The Church's One Foundation/ in which occurs 
the suggestive stanza : 

Though, with a scornful wonder 

Men see her sore opprest, 
By schisms rent asunder, 

By heresies distrest, 


Yet saints tlieir watch are keeping, 

Their cry goes up, ' How long ?' 
And soon the night of weeping 

Shall he the morn of song. 

The Lord's Prayer followed, and then the 103rd Psalm ; 
after which Mr Wilkinson appeared in the pulpit. He 
took as his text the 2nd verse of the Psalrn just sung : 
' Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all His 

Plunging at once in medias res he asked what good 
had the Mission done ? The answer could not be given 
at once. We had hurried hither this morning with sword 
still unsheathed and war-drum sounding, and were asked, 
f How went the battle ? 3 The London clergy could, how- 
ever, tell of souls won, and of good done to themselves. 
They had for years been struggling, and their courage 
had well nigh failed when the message of the Mission 
came. They had been talking of the Gospel until they 
had degenerated into a weak sentimentalism, when lo 
this Mission ! A blessing had rested on Church workers 
who had come forward in Christ's cause. ' God has saved 
sinners, God has given saints to His Church by this 
London Mission/ But it might be said, ' All this is 
temporary.' There might be darker sides to the Mission 
of which we were now ignorant. Mistakes might bring 
down the contempt of the world. Possibly so; God 
alone could survey the whole battlefield ; but whatever 
mistakes there were, let the world criticize them, if it 
had the heart to do so, when it saw men nearly broken 
down in trying to do good. God had given re- 
sults which no criticism could touch. Of individual 
mercies he had no time to speak, but he called for thanks 
because, first of all, they had been allowed to manifest 
their belief honestly, if imperfectly, in the centre of our 
modern Babylon. Come what might in the future, no- 
thing could rob us of this, that the Mission was ended, 
and that we had manifested the Name of our God ; and, 
secondly, that this had been done, not by individuals, 
but by the Church in its corporate capacity. Our bishops 
had the spiritual power given them to summon their 


clergy. The Dean and Chapter of St Paul's made the 
Cathedral the centre of the Mission. The bishops 
he thanked God for it had sent us out from this 
Cathedral with words of prayer, and hither we returned 
to-day to thank Him. Thank God, who had given us 
such bishops, and who used ' this dear old church of our 
fathers ' for such a purpose ! Who could calculate the 
force of those prayers which our bishops had been in- 
strumental in suggesting ? The battle had only just 
begun. If we were wearied now, how should we hold 
our ground in the coming Lent ? In no other way than 
by being still and listening to the echo wafted to us from 
the margin of the crystal sea. ' In everything, by prayer 
and supplication let your requests be made known unto 
God.' God only knew for what trials this Mission might 
be preparing the Church, but He would fight for Judah 
against the Moabites and Ammonites. 

The sermon, which was an elegant apotheosis of the 
Mission in general, and of the bishops very much in 
particular, was followed first by a silent thanksgiving, 
then by a Te Deum and Benediction ; and so the Mission 
was formally and finally ended. 

Looking over the somewhat voluminous notes I have 
accumulated in thus ' stumping ' the London Mission, I 
find that some reference to the via media is necessary 
the Church of England pure and simple. As a type of 
this class, I should certainly take the Rev. T. Teignmouth 
Shore, of Berkeley Chapel. Mayfair might seem an un- 
promising sphere for a Mission; but Mr Shore tried it 
with four services a day, and so far succeeded that he 
not only got Mayfair to come to week-day services, but 
to lay aside its exclusiveness, so that one might see 
a colonel in the Guards and a footman sitting side by 
side. Mayfair altered its dinner-hour, and ladies opened 
the street doors themselves, so as to let the servants go 
to church. Here were tangible results, at all events. 
A Public-house Brigade of young peers and guardsmen 
visited the different taverns, not to preach, but to get 
people to church, where special instruction was given 
e.g., to domestic servants. A society of men and women 



servants has been formed to perpetuate the work of the 
Mission. An excellent arrangement at Berkeley Chapel 
was the providing each person with a short, printed 
epitome of the evening sermon, to take away with them for 
purposes of meditation and prayer. A very good effect, 
too, was produced by requesting the congregation not 
to leave en masse, but two-by-two, the rest remaining 
on their knees. By this means perfect silence was kept; 
and it was hoped that the effect of the previous service 
would not be dispersed, as it seems to be when all the 
congregation leave together. 

The Mission, of course, had been, and will be, used by 
parties in the Church for party purposes. Some of our 
best men of all shades of thought have stood aloof from 
the movement altogether, perhaps for the very reason 
that they saw it was being used for. party purposes. One 
may venture even to surmise some such cause for the 
conspicuous absence of the Bishops from St Paul's; but 
this makes it only the more interesting to notice the 
form the Mission assumed under the auspices of such 
men as Mr Shore and Mr Llewellyn Davies in the widely- 
different localities of Mayfair and Lisson Grove. 

However, actum est. The curtain falls. It is, per- 
haps, premature to look for fruits which may be stiL 
looming only in the distant future. 

The Ten Days' Mission of 1874 was over; and as we 
lay down its voluminous records we are conscious. of the 
same emotion as that excited by a venerable wallflower 
whom we have unexpectedly trotted out to a dance at 
the last moment, when all the eligible partners were 
gone. The Establishment had gushed ; the metropolitan 
bishops gushed; the Dean and Chapter of St Paul's 
gushed sympathetically for is not Canon Gregory its 
Hildebrand ? Even Dean Stanley so far caught the con- 
tagion as to lay on Professor Max Miiller for an unsea- 
sonable Mission on his own account, of course in a very 
heterodox and irregular way; but still he went in for 
the letter, if not for the spirit, of the movement. If dig- 
nitaries gushed ' the inferior clergy' could do no less. 


So we had all or nearly all of us been gushing for the 
last ten days. That sensationalism which had hitherto 
cropped up in three-volume novels and five-act pieces 
has found its way to the pulpit ; not here and there, as 
it always did, but as the rule and not the exception. 
The whole Establishment gushed with one heart and 
one voice ; and even a few Dissenters, who could not by 
any means be admitted within the pale, have gushed 
humbly outside, like Jews at the ' Weeping Gate/ 

Five years ago a spasm of the same kind occurred in 
the body corporate of the Established Church ; some of 
us thought by way of make-weight over ag-ainst the 
Irish revivals. Then, however, the bishops stood on 
their dignity, and only one portion of the ecclesiastical 
body took the infection ; but the Ritualists had it very 
badly indeed. In fact, they managed to monopolize the 
movement, and utilized it in the way of working up 
compulsory auricular confession to the place it con- 
fessedly occupies in that cultus. 

But now, as we have said, the bishops gushed. Sydney 
Smith .could not realize the idea of a bishop flirting. 
Had he occupied his old stall at St Paul's when the 
Mission ball was set rolling, he would have heard Lon- 
don, Rochester, and Winchester gush like girls. Their 
role was to pat the Mission on the back, and so keep it 
orthodox keep its gushing within limits ; alas ! with 
how little success those who have ' followed } the Mission 
know too well. Our right reverend fathers in God raised 
a spirit they cannot lay, and what will be the next freaks 
of Frankenstein it is impossible even to surmise. 

It may possibly surprise the uninitiated to learn that 
the gushings of the ultra-Evangelical school had scarcely 
been so prominent or perceptible as those of the other 
Protean parties into which the Church of England as by 
law established is divided and subdivided. This, however^ 
results from the fact that gush is simply the normal con- 
dition of those sweetly orthodox folks. Your thorough 
Evangelical, before she for it is always she has been 
with you five minutes, gushingly asks you if you have 
been to ' hear ' dear Mr So-and-so, or to ' sit under ' Mr 


or even Mrs Somebody else. It is always that dear Earl 
of Shaf tesbury, or dear Poet Tupper and his pension, or 
dear Dr Cuinniing's very last Vial of Wrath, with, which 
they regale you. A gush more or less scarcely shows in 
a real rampant Evangelical, and it needs no London 
Mission to evoke his powers. A prayer-meeting will do 
it any Wednesday evening; nay, family prayers at a 
full-dress evening party, with the Bibles handed round 
on a tray, like refreshments, will call out the gushing 
faculties of the guests at a moment's notice. To a man 
like Mr Haslam, of Ourzon Chapel, Mayfair, who will 
preach three full- flavoured sermons on a Sunday without 
turning a hair, what need of a Mission ? He is a per- 
manent missioner, and will feel it the greatest compli- 
ment we can possibly pay him when we say so. 

To say that the Ritualists once more marked the 
Mission for their own, is simply another way of saying 
that they have reached the acme of gush. They were 
always great on coloured stoles and the last new thing in 
copes or dalmatics ; and to hear Father Ignatius breathe 
a Benediction, or Father Stanton ' rant ' (it is his own 
term) at a watch-night service, one would have thought 
there was as little for a Mission to do at this as at the 
other pole. But the Ritualists in general, and the Cowley 
Fathers in particular, have arrogated to themselves an 
exclusiveness in the matter of gush which he would be 
a bold man indeed who would venture to dispute. 
When that Argyll ball was over, and the female portion 
of the assembly adjourned, pretty well en masse to St 
Peter's, Windmill Street, next door, the way Father 
Prescott, of Cowley, addressed them as his ' dear sisters ' 
was positively seraphic ; and though they did giggle a 
bit when he told them the dear ladies in the coal-scuttle 
bonnets would be happy to nurse them through any dis- 
ease, ' even the small-pox/ still they could not, those 
interesting Magdalens, fail to be impressed with his 
reiterated assurances that they were his very dear sisters 
indeed. We did indeed hear one of our poor ' sisters ' 
ask whether the fatherly gentleman who succeeded Mr 
Prescott thought they were children, and irreverently 


enough compare his sermon on the lost sheep or rather 
its episode of the Scotch shepherd who tumbled over a 
rock with a sheep to a new version of ' Little Bopeep.' 
The ladies in the poke bonnets were more than demon- 
strative ; indeed we fear they laid it on a little more 
thickly than the girls liked; for Magdalen has had a 
rough schooling, and, though impressionable and easily 
moved to tears as to smiles, has a very keen sense of the 
ridiculous; and we should not be at all surprised if the 
good ladies at St Peter's, in their exceedingly commend- 
able zeal, rather overshot the mark than otherwise, for 
the fair but frail ones were rather noisy one night, and 
interrupted the proceedings. If we had hopes of the 
Mission under any aspect it was under this, and we were 
very' sorry to see it in any degree fail if it did fail. 
We fancy the men would have managed the matter bet- 
ter for themselves, especially now that the art of ecclesi- 
astical gush has been so thoroughly reduced to a system. 
But what shall be said of those un gushing, ungush- 
able ones of all schools who stood aloof from this great 
work ? We had, we will confess it, hoped better things 
of Mr Stuart, of St Mary Magdalene's, Munster Square, 
for he is generally fragrant with the odour of sanctity ; 
but Mr Sfcuart's bete noir is a bishop, and he can no more 
help girding at a right reverend father in God than a 
bull can help running at a red rag. We are far from 
wishing any harm to Mr Stuart, for we have on many 
occasions admired his pluck; but it would have been a 
fine piece of retributive justice if the Hon. Arthur Kin- 
naird had accepted his offer to let him preach the follow- 
ing Sunday at St Mary Magdalene's, with the reverend 
gentleman himself as amateur verger to show him to the 
pulpit. Mr Rowsell, Dr Irons, Mr Haweis, and a few 
others we could name, have elected to become ' marked 
men ' by abstaining from all part or lot in the Mission. 
Dr Lee, the coryphaeus of Ritualism, ended his experi- 
ment abruptly, confessing it abortive. He would have 
' no ranting and roaring-' in the New Cut. He is but a 
tyro in the art of gush ; but, very softly be it spoken, 
we believe that, in their hearts, the bishops honour these 


men, and look upon them as the small minority in Israel 
who had not bowed the knee to Baal. Moabites and 
Ammonites, Mr Wilkinson at St Paul's called all the 
non-missioners ; but there were no bishops not even a 
dean or an archdeacon to lend a dignified endorsement 
to this lion of Judah. Female London and clerical Lon- 
don were there in full gush, but the bishops, who had 
patted the Mission on the back there, in ( that dear old 
church of their fathers/ but a few months ago, were 
conspicuously and significantly absent, and only a pro- 
cession of three could be got up to inaugurate the final 
' Te Deum/ Canon Gregory, the ever-gushing, had to 
represent the whole Chapter on the occasion. The very 
name of the Mission was eliminated from the programmes 
of the service, and the vergers themselves forbore to 
talk about it. The fact is, that there enters into the 
composition of a bishop, besides the average amount of 
capacity, a good deal of shrewd common sense ; and my 
Lords of London, Winchester, and Rochester saw the 
Mission was not going to answer. If a stamp of the 
prelatical foot would have put out the Mission, it would 
certainly have been extinguished ; but Ritualists take a 
deal of episcopal stamping to put them out ; that, again, 
is a compliment which we are sure they will appreciate. 
From their point of view the success of the Mission had 
been complete. It filled the confessionals ; and that 
particular apparatus of devotion is quite safe to prevent 
anything like a Conservative reaction. 

We heretics within and without the pale look on . 
serenely upon the suave marimagno principle ; and Rome 
bides her time, securely expectant of the results. In 
the reaction which always follows any kind of gush, it 
will certainly be found that old divergences have widened 
out, that the Ritualists are more Roman, the Evangelic- 
als more Methodistical, than ever. If we could believe 
that this would fuse differences into one whole, however 
heterogeneous, we might congratulate the Established 
Church on ' having made the premier pas towards the 
paraded Reunion of Christendom. We do not assume 
prophetic power ; but our belief is that this act of the 


bishops has been suicidal, and that the result of all this 
gush notwithstanding the accession of the stagnant 
party to power will be an immense impetus in the 
direction of disestablishment. 


HHHERE is a prevalent and widespread idea that ad- 
J_ vanced Ritualism is a sort of religious luxury adapted 
only to the needs of the upper ten thousand ; and that 
if the poor are admitted into the circle of its influences 
at all, it is only as a sort of raw material, on which dilet- 
tanti Good Samaritans may exercise their easy charity 
and specious self-denial. Possibly this idea originated 
in the fact that what was years ago called { Puseyism ' 
first became familiar to us in certain Belgravian churches, 
and the notion spread that there was something exclusive 
and aristocratic about its cultus. There was a time, per- 
haps, when a good deal of spurious church man ship and 
still more churchwomanship did expend itself in pretty 
gilt crosses on prayer-books, genuflexions, and such like ; 
but this was quite in the infancy of the system. As it 
grew, whether for good or ill it is not incumbent on me 
to say, it spread rapidly, and at the same time took root 
downwards among strata of society who had as yet only 
been reached by an equally pronounced Protestantism, if 
even by that, and which probably will always require some 
strong sensuous element to arrest their attention in the 
direction of spiritual truth. The fact of Baldwin's 
Gardens, Holborn, and the New Cut, Lambeth, being the 
very strongholds of metropolitan Ritualism, affords cer- 
tain evidence that the poor discern a kindred element in 
aesthetic worship. After making due allowance for the 
circumstance that some poor people maybe attracted by 


the charitable doles known to form part of the practical 
religion of '.High. Church'' people, and the corresponding 
certainty that a gold ring and goodly apparel are not 
necessary qualifications to secure them a seat in church, 
there still remain cases more than enough, not covered 
by either of these contingencies, which serve to assure 
us that Ritualism, if it be the natural expression of the 
religious sentiment in the rich and refined, is sometimes 
equally so in the poor and illiterate. Extremes meet in 
this, as in many other cases. It is a known fact that 
your c hard-headed Protestants f and ' plain sober Church 
of England people ' are found very generally among the 
lower middle classes. A Ritualistic small shopkeeper 
is as rare as a tortoise-shell torn cat or a white elephant. 

But, again, in other than social respects, there are 
Ritualists and Ritualists. The Ritualism of St A.lban's, 
Holborn, differs widely, though not perhaps essentially, 
from that of the New Cat. I purposely name the two 
headquarters I had already mentioned. Though Mr 
Mackonochie and Dr Lee are probably at one on all vital 
points of doctrine, still the system which has grown up 
around the one differs greatly from that which finds its 
centre in the other. There is a correctness, a rigidity 
I use the term inoffensively, and for lack of better 
at St Alban's, which are quite lacking in the equally 
precise but more popular expression of identical ideas at 
All Saints'', Lambeth. The aristocratic element if it 
ever existed at all may be supposed to be traceable in 
the former. It is certainly banished from the latter. 
There is also another difference in the two systems, to 
which one need do no more than refer in so many words 
here. All Saints'* relies principally on the aesthetic 
elements of its worship to form pabulum for its congre- 
gation. The strong point of St Alban's is avowedly the 
Confessional each, of course, in subordination to that 
pronounced sacramental teaching which lies at the root 
of every arrangement in the one as in the other. 

The day selected for my typical visit to All Saints' 
was the 8th of September, when I was informed by the 
Church Times ' the Nativity of our Blessed Lady' would 


be celebrated by the sixteenth anniversary of the Asso- 
ciation for Promoting ,the Union of Christendom being- 
held thereupon. I had, some years previously, attended 
one of these special services, and had then got to regard 
All Saints' as my ideal of a Ritualistic Church. Con- 
sidering the acknowledged claims of Dr Lee to be an 
authority in these matters, one could well understand 
that everything that was done at all would be well and 
correctly done ; but how he did it there, in the very 
abyss of London poverty, was the marvel. Low trans- 
pontine Cockneys saw a function that would not have 
done dishonour to a Catholic cathedral. But then, I 
thought, this was an exceptional occasion ; and I was 
really glad to hear Dr Lee say that this year they would 
trust mainly to themselves to celebrate the festival and 
the anniversary. I wanted to see All Saints' thrown 
upon its resources; and here, it seemed, was my oppor- 
tunity. Entering the church, which is a capacious one, 
able to contain sixteen hundred out of the six thousand 
five hundred who form the population of the parish, I 
found it well filled with a congregation in which both 
the sexes and all the social elements were pretty fairly 
divided. The building itself is plain in the extreme; 
but a rood-screen separates it from the chancel, and this 
is highly decorated, and arranged with every appurte- 
nance of ' Catholic ' devotion. Six lights were burning 1 
on the altar, three on either side of the crucifix, and vases 
of bright flowers were ranged between. A row of lighted 
tapers also ran along the chancel wall, about on a level 
with the large cross that surmounted the roodloft. It 
was if I may hazard an opinion very much what the 
Church of the Poor ought to be, if it is to contrast with 
the false glare and glitter of the world outside. Precisely 
at eight o'clock, a procession emerged from the vestry 
singing 'Onward, Christian Soldiers/ to the jubilant 
melody of Handel's ' See the Conquering' Hero comes ; ' 
and I was at once struck with the fertility of resources 
in the New Cut. Instead of some twelve, or at most a 
score, as I had expected, there must have been at least 
a hundred in the procession, with cross, tarpers, banners, 


and smoking censers. The clergy, three in number, 
were arrayed in the most gorgeous vestments ; and an 
admirable contrast to the white-robed choristers was 
afforded by a guild which brought up the rear of the 
procession dressed in their cassocks, with the badge of 
their order suspended round the neck by a crimson, 
ribbon. The acolytes wore scarlet cassocks and skull- 
caps. As they made the circuit of the church and posed 
themselves on entering the chancel, still singing the 
festal hymn in unison, I thought the spectacle must 
be the very perfection of ritual. The congregation 
joined heartily in the singing. 

After the opening sentence was monotoned, the Con- 
fession followed, to the exclusion of ' Dearly beloved 
brethren ; } an exhortation which no doubt loses some- 
thing of its force by continual repetition. Their rubrics 
are elastic at All Saints', and they omit or insert as seems 
best for edification ; possibly the best rubric of all. The 
Psalms and Lessons were proper to the festival, and the 
' Ave Maria' was sung as an antiphon before each of the 
former. The interest culminated at the Magnificat, 
which was sung while all turned to the east, Dr Lee 
being on the top step of the altar. There were also 
special collects, for the festival and anniversary, and then 
the Hymn of the Office was sung, the words being written 
by Dr Lee himself, to one of the most exquisite airs I 
ever heard : 



God the Father, we adore Thee, 

Great Creator, Lord of Life ; 
From Thy heavenly home behold us, 

And in mercy stay our strife : 
As Thou art, so, Lord, Thy Church is, 

One divine, and One alone ; 
Give us here that peace Thou sheddest 

O'er the ransomed round Thy throne. 

Thou, Christ, before the worlds were, 

Sole -"begotten of the Sire, 
Art True Man, by Mary brought forth, 

Of all nations the Desire ! 


Love Divine, like morning sunbeams, 

Pell upon an outcast race, 
From the moment that Saint Gabriel 

Hailed Thy Mother full of grace. 

Love Divine, like dew in harvest, 

Bested on a sinful world, 
From Thy glorious Paschal triumph, 

When the cross-flag was unfurled-: 
Yet that prayer for peace and oneness, 

On Thy Passion-night of woe, 
Now we tramp in isolation, 

Seems unheard, as ages go. 

Lord, then, in Thy mercy heed us, 

Bule and blend our varying wills, 
Speak the reconciling fiat, 

Darkness flees with all its ills. 
Isolation and divisions 

Shall be known again no more, 
But on earth unbroken union, 

Like the calm of Heaven's shore. 

Hear us, God, Thou great Creator ; 

Grant it, Mary's gracious Son ; 
Seal it, Comforter most holy, 

Let the Will of God be done ! 
May Christ's dying prayer be wrought out, 

In the Church divisions cease, 
Till His soldiers gain their triumph 

In the dawn of Light and Peace. 

One or two prayers only followed the Prayer for All 
Sorts and Conditions of Men and the G-eneral Thanks- 
giving being omitted. Hyrnn 303 from the People's 
Hymnal, ' what light and glory ! ' was sung, and then 
Dr Lee entered the pulpit where, I may mention, is no 
sort of apparatus forjholding a ' document/ as the ritual- 
ists term written sermons in derision and preached 
from 1 Cor. i. ' Is Christ divided ? ' 

Never, he said, since Pentecost had there been greater 
necessity than now for the faithful to have belief in an 
Incarnate God ; and by the appearance of the present 
festival in the Prayer-Book of the Church of England it 
was quite clear that it was intended to be observed. 
The Incarnation could not, humanly speaking, be carried 


out witliout the co-operation of her wlio was predes- 
tinated to be the mother of the Lord. It was essential 
to have a clear and accurate view of the dogma of the 
Incarnation as set forth by St John, well termed the 
'Theologian j ' and never was statement more clear than 
his as to the central verity of the Word made Flesh. It 
was in reference to this that the words of the text were 
asked ; upon this different schools and sects differed, but 
the doctrine of the whole college of the Apostles was 
that contained in the three creeds. 

From, time to time people had failed in this cardinal 
doctrine. The Avians, for instance, in opposition to the 
statement of St John the Theologian, that ' the Word 
was God/ maintained that Christ was not of the same 
substance with the Father. Arianism fought hard, but 
it was condemned in the Nicene Creed. Then came the 
Nestorians, a century later, who, while resembling the 
Arians in their tone, were precisely opposed to them in 
the fact that they denied Christ's humanity. They said 
it was degrading' for God to have been born of a virgin. 
They made two Persons : the Word was one, the Flesh 
the other. These were condemned by the Fathers at 
Ephesus; while at Chalcedoii they opposed Eutychus, who 
refused to divide the natures, maintaining that they were 
confused and absorbed into one. 

Now, the preacher proceeded to say, we had in ourselves 
a shadow of the Incarnation, as of the Trinity. As the 
latter was* symbolized by the body, soul, and spirit, so 
the former was shadowed forth in what the glorious words 
of the Athanasiau Creed called ' the reasonable soul and 
the human flesh.' 

Every feast, said Dr Lee, which guards this doctrine 
of the Incarnation, was one that we ought to reverence. 
Anything that hedged round this dogma was not only 
seemly, but valuable and important. Hence we observed 
this festival the birthday of our Lady, as Christmas was 
the birthday of our Lord. This was the natal day of 
Mary. Who was so near to Jesus as the mother who for 
nine long months bore Him in her sacred womb ? She 
it was who tended Him in His boyhood, and whose 


presence made His home beautiful and happy. The 
names of Jesus and Mary were closely linked together in 
all our creeds ; and we observed this festival to guard 
the doctrine of the Incarnation itself. The Church of 
England, when, for good or ill, she put aside many other 
things, deliberately retained this particular feast ; whilst 
all antiquity was in favour of its observance. 

Sixteen years ago there were those to whom the ques- 
tion of the text came strongly home, and they banded 
themselves together for intercessory prayer that God 
would heal the divisions of the Church; and if he might 
state his individual opinions, he thought they had clone 
well to choose as their patroness the Blessed Virgin Mary. 
If we wanted to secure an end, we obtained the inter- 
cession of the influential, and so it was we sought the 
intercession of her who was highest in heaven. It was 
to her the prophetic utterance of David referred, when 
he said, ' Upon thy right hand did stand the queen in a 
vesture of gold, wrought about with divers colours/ And 
we could see the present fruits of Mary's intercession in 
the success of the Society whose sixteenth anniversary 
we were keeping. 

In an eloquent peroration he exhorted all to go on 
praying, for prayer would one day pierce the skies. The 
night was passing; the morning breaking. 'Q per- 
plexed and distracted ! ' he concluded, ' O worn and 
weary ! Lift up your hearts, for your redemption draw- 
eth nigh. And 0, Blessed Paraclete, our guide, our life, 
our stay ! turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, 
and of the children to their fathers, and give us pence, 
so that when the question of the text is asked of us, we 
may reply in the words of our Creed, "1 believe in ONK 
GOD/' May that truth be with us when the crucifix is 
held for the last time before our eyes, and we sleep here 
on earth, to wake up in the joy of the land that is beyond 
the grave ! ' 

Filing out to the strains of ( Pilgrims of the Night/ as 
a Recessional Hymn, the procession showed itself in its 
true dimensions. The cross-bearer had passed into the 
sacristy before Dr Lee left the sacrarium, thus tilling- 


three sides of the vast church with its white-robed and 
bannered files. 

This was, of course, a high day at All Saints', but the 
work is steady and continuous there. Four celebrations 
of the Holy Communion, and on an average four sermons, 
take place weekly. There are National Schools, with 
about. 400 children in attendance, Sunday Schools, 
Clothing Club, Maternity Charity, &c., all worked by 
means of voluntary gifts. The choir consists almost en- 
tirely of volunteers. 

1 The High Church movement/ said Dr Lee to me, 
f has won its way in spite of opposition from without, 
and now there is no apparent distaste or dislike for it.' 
My own observation confirmed this as far as the con- 
gregation on this day was concerned, for it was a hearty 
and genial one. There are no pew-rents, or fees for 
baptism or churchings, at All Saints'. It is, as beseems 
a church in the New Cut, essentially a poor man's church. 
Lambeth, added my informant, is not a church-going 
population. It has been so long exclusively in the hands 
of the Evangelicals that little more than 20 per cent, of 
the people go to any place of worship. The great prac- 
tical need is for the large employers of labour to take 
some interest in the well-being of their workmen and 
their families, in which they now so generally fail. 
There is as utter a want of knowledge either of other 
between employer and employed, as there is between 
any two classes in England e.g., the highest and the 

Work in such a parish, and with such surroundings, 
can be no sinecure. The worship and the teaching are 
' pitched high/ no doujbt, but the surrounding influences 
are pitched proportionately low. If DrLee reclaims the 
smallest fraction of the population from the abyss, we 
should be querulous indeed to grumble at the means by 
which he accomplishes an end so desirable yet so difncult. 



IT would seem that, except under its most material as- 
pect, tlie dwellers in great]cities would not take much 
interest in the harvest. It might appear that, save in 
the higher or lower price of a staple article of food, 
London would barely notice the advent of Frugifer 
Auctumnus ; and perhaps of all parts of the metropolis, 
Walworth is the least likely to be aesthetic on that or 
any other subject. It is more than Cockney it is 
transpontine ; and in London across the bridges Cock- 
neyism seems to culminate and come to a head. Yet so 
it is. Though Walworth is the reverse of Arcadian, it 
is punctilious in its respect to the harvest. Its Thanks- 
giving services have, since the appointment of Mr Going 
to the incumbency of St Paul's, Lorrimore Square, been 
an annual event. At the commencement of that period, 
Mr Going told me, he had been commissioned to manage 
a harvest festival in Devonshire ; and the idea occurred 
to him, why should not such a celebration be transferred 
from the coast of England to his suburban parish ? He 
saw no just cause or impediment ; and one Sunday after 
his return from his holiday, he gave notice that a harvest 
festival would be held in Walworth, asking at the same 
time, for gifts of corn, flowers, and the like. He was 
forthwith inundated, and his cornucopia was even more 
full than he desired. From that time the Walworth 
Harvest Festival has been an institution ; and it was from 
seeing it advertised in the Times, with a sermon by the 
Rev. Luke Rivington, that I adjourned thither. 

Lorrimore Square is not easy even for a Londoner to 
find; and a gentle drizzle drifted in my face as I footed 
it over Westminster Bridge, effectually dispelling the 
last remains of harvest ideas with which I had, artinci- 


ally enough, filled my mind before starting. I arrived 
at my destination full half an hour before time, but 
found the church even then well filled with a thoroughly 
Walworthian population. It is a plain Gothic edifice of 
spacious dimensions ; and two little cocklofts of galleries 
in the north and south aisles were stuffed so full of 
people that they looked as if they must inevitably topple 
over. The columns were painted half-way up with dead 
red and a cold gray, the latter colour being greatly 
used in the mural decorations of the church. The 
chancel arch was diapered green, and figures of the 
Blessed Virgin and St Paul were blazoned on the pillars. 
This is to be the character of adornment throughout 
the church, when funds allow; but Walworth is poor, 
and things have to be done by degrees. Above the 
chancel rails, which were magnificently decorated with 
fruits, is a roodloft richly panelled in red and blue, 
with a huge crucifix flanked by two standard tapers, 
and a bouquet of lights on each side suspended from 
the roof. The rich adornments of the chancel arch, 
compared with the plain character of the rest of the 
church, gave it almost the appearance of a proscenium. 
There were also two side altars at the east end of the 
north and south aisles respectively, with tapers and 
floral decorations. The sacrarium was dark when I 
entered, except from the light given by seven sanctuary 
lamps ; but presently two acolytes in scarlet cassocks 
and white surplices lighted up first the tapers in the 
roodloft, and then those on the three altars, showing 
the high altar richly and chastely decorated with white 
and light- colou'red dahlias, but the chef d'ceuvre of all 
was the decoration of the chancel rails, the taste and 
profusion of which I have never seen approached in 
church decoration. Two banners of rich silk were 
resting against the north and south columns of the 
chancel arch. 

At eight o' clock a large procession of choristers and 
clergy, preceded by a cross-bearer and two acolytes, 
entered from the vestry, and passed to the chancel 
without any processional hymn, the organ playing a 


bright introit. "With the exception of the three in front, 
who wore scarlet cassocks, the rest were in ordinary 
black cassock and surplice, the clergy wearing' their 
academical hoods. I had expected to see the vestments 
more ' advanced ' at St Paul's. Indeed, throughout the 
service, I was continually surprised to find matters not 
nearly so ' extreme ' as I had supposed. The choir was 
more numerous than musical, and sang the Confession 
in a very flat way, making, in fact, quite a descending 
chromatic scale of it, in spite of the officiating clergy- 
man, who did his best to sustain the pitch. Tallis's 
accompanied versicles picked them up ; and they sang 
out the psalms which were the ordinary ones of the 
day lustily, and with a good courage, to Gregorian 
tones in unison. The ' Magnificat ; was a more preten- 
tious composition, seeming a sort of hybrid between 
Anglican and Gregorian, and throughout the Psalms 
and Canticles the organist perpetually introduced long 
scales into his accompaniment, which had- a very strange 
effect, especially in the unison singing, where surely 
the accompaniment cannot be too simple. The hymn 
after the third collect was the usual one for Thursday 
evening, and was also sung to a Gregorian tune. Matters 
improved after the prayers, when the hymn ' Raise the 
song of harvest-home } was sung to a cheerful air by 
the choir, and for the first time by the congregation, 
who remained mute as mice as long as the music was 
Gregorian. Ecclesiastical and correct as the Gregorian 
music is, it certainly does require an educated taste to 
appreciate it j and Walvvorth did not seem up to the 
mark, despite the fifteen years' schooling of Mr Going. 
Towards the end of the hymn, the Bev. Luke Eivington, 
now one of the Cowley Fathers, ascended the pulpit, 
and preached a most eloquent sermon from St John viii. 
12, on ' The Light of the World/ 

The occasion, he said, when the text was uttered, 
might almost be described as a harvest festival. It was 
at the Feast of Tabernacles, or ingathering, when the 
Jews decorated their houses with beautiful boughs, to 
remind them of the plenteous land on which they en- 



tered after tlieir passage through tlie wilderness in old 
times. He would try, he said, to enter into the feelings 
of those who did not believe in God's providence. He 
did not suppose there were any Atheists or Pantheists 
in that congregation ; but it would be well to compare 
the advantages enjoyed by Christians with the dis- 
advantages of those schools. A statement of their 
doctrines need not take them out of their depth. There 
were people,, of the same flesh and blood as ourselves, 
who could see nothing around them but dead, inert 
matter. If you asked them what it all meant, they 
could only say, c I don't know. If it is only matter, 
what concern have we in the question whence it came, 
or whither it is going ?.' But thinking men want to 
know this, when they look up into the star-studded sky, 
or abroad upon earth in its summer beauty ; and then 
comes the Pantheist and says there must be a God, 
because the doctrine has been on the lips of people for 
centuries. The Infinite, he tells us, rises from the 
mineral to the .animal, and up through the ascending 
grades of animals to man ; but how, asked the preacher, 
can the Infinite so unfold Himself ? 

But when we see man put on earth as the vicegerent 
of God, with everything adapted to his wants and 
pleasures, instead of gazing in stupid wonderment, we 
were filled with gratitude ; and it was in the light of 
this revelation that as Christians we came before God 
that night, to thank Him for His gifts in the material 

But still, we had not exhausted the story of our rela- 
tion to this world. As there was in Eden a forbidden 
tree, so there was to each of us a forbidden fruit ; and 
here it was especially that the Christian enjoyed light. 
There was indeed no forbidden tree in the sense that 
things were ticketed good and bad ; but One had dwelt 
in this world who told' us what was the forbidden tree 
to each of us. See Him on the Cross teaching us that 
man's life consisteth not in the abundance of things that 
he poss'esseth. His poverty dissipated the delusion as 
to happiness depending upon the number of things on 


which, a man could write his name. By passing life 
amongst earthly creatures, and yet foregoing the use of 
them, He taught what was the forbidden fruit to each. 
Look to Christ, then, he said, and in the inner circle of 
His light learn what is to each the forbidden fruit. It 
would be different to each individual. One man might 
use what another would feel obliged to forego. 

If, he continued, this forbidden fruit was not marked 
out to the natural eye, but left to conscience, was there 
nothing but the example of Christ to guide us ? When 
man was created, God's image was stamped on his 
nature ; and as long as he continued true to this, he saw 
what he ought and ought not to do, and loved and 
hated accordingly. But when he fell, he had still 
wisdom ; he knew his responsibilities ; but he lost the 
fellowship of the Holy Ghost. He knew what was 
right and what wrong ; but he often loved the wrong 
and hated the right. His affections strayed; and he 
often hated himself for that fact he had lost the con- 
trol of his affections ! 

And there comes, he added solemnly, to every one a 
day when Christ would say to each one of us, as God said 
to Adam of old, 'Where art thou? What hast thou 
been doing ? ' And the sinner would have to confess to 
a wasted life. But Christ comes not only as Judge. 
He comes as Light of the World. He conies to give 
affection a new power, that we might not only know 
through conscienee what we ought to do, but love to 
do it. 

In the early morning of that great festival, when the 
night was dying out, they lighted two huge candelabra, 
which shed a light over all Jerusalem ; and gradually, 
as the morning dawned, the sun seemed to quench the 
light of the lamps. That sun was mocking the Jewish 
ritual ; and lo ! there rang through Jerusalem a voice of 
unearthly grandeur, saying, ' I am the Light of the 
World/ As the sun paled those Temple lights, so all 
the old covenant faded away before that Light of the 

And Christ seemed to utter the words of the text from 


age to age. child ! said the preacher, in an earnest 
apostrophe, living in self- will, you are living in darkness ! 
There was a story of a young man who said he was 
going to settle in life. He would marry. ' And what 
next ? ' asked an old man. ' Well, then, rise in my 
profession/ ' And what next ? ' the old man asked. 
' Well, then, live on, and, I suppose, die some day.' 
' And what next ? } The young man had never thought 
of that. How many were living in such a state of 
thoughtlessness ! 

Why, concluded the preacher, should you live in 
darkness ? Yield your affections, to Christ. There could 
be, he reminded his hearers, no harvest without disci- 
pline. The field, if endowed with consciousness, might 
wonder why it should .be ploughed and harrowed, and 
trodden by the feet of the sower ; why the cloud should 
loom over it, the rain fall, and the snow cover it up. 
But in the spring morning light and heat would descend 
together, and in July heaven seemed to have dropped on 
each corn-stalk a golden crown of beauty ; and then the 
field would know it was well to have undergone previous 
preparation if all were to end in this glorious golden 
harvest. So must we look on to the blessed day when 
we should have done with the discipline of life ; when, 
having sown in tears, we should reap in joy, and come, 
bringing our sheaves with us. Might this Harvest 
Festival, he prayed, be to the angels of God no mere 
parody, no mere thanksgiving for material harvest, but 
of deeper thanks for all that was involved in the expres- 
sion, ' The Light of the World.' 

The sermon was most eloquent, and almost voluble in 
its fluency, with enough graceful action to delight the 
hearts of Walworth, who, as a rule, object to ' book 
parsons/ It was listened to with rapt attention by what 
had now swollen to a vast congregation, cramming every 
inch of the church. 

And then came the Harvest Festival in real earnest. 
With banners borne aloft, that large choir went in pro- 
cession round the church to the music of two hymns ; 


the first being ( Praise, praise our God and King/ of 
which, the well-known burden is 

For His mercies aye endure, 
Ever faithful, ever sure ; 

the second,, the familiar e Onward, Christian soldiers/ 

So ended this very characteristic service ; and long 
did Walworth linger to gaze on the bright autumn 
trophies decorating their church. From conversation 
with the incumbent I learned that all the seats at St 
Paul's are free, and all the decorations gifts no money 
being expended on the festival. There are large schools 
in the parish recently rebuilt at a cost of 5000 ; so there 
is something being done at St Paul's besides frequent 
High Church services and annual Harvest Festivals. 
The bigger boys sat just in front of me on Thursday 
evening, having the chief seat in the synagogue at the 
Harvest Thanksgiving, and as is the custom with boys 
elsewhere than in Walworth fidgetting me to the verge 
of distraction during the service. They evidently looked 
upon my note-taking in church as a heterodox proceed- 
ing, and only appeared relieved from apprehension when 
they saw Mr Going come out and courteously supple- 
ment my otherwise imperfect account of the doings. 

Walworth is a place of strange antitheses. On the 
last two occasions when I had penetrated its recesses, it 
was to hunt up Joanna Southcott's people, and to 
chronicle the doings of the Jumpers. As I returned the 
rain fell heavily, and amid the muggy atmosphere and 
black mud of transpontine London it required a very 
strong exercise of imagination indeed to keep up any 
lingering impressions of the bright Harvest Festival. 



fTUNIEST of all metropolitan churches is that which, 
JL sacred to St John the Baptist, does its best to blush 
unseen in Great Marlborough Street. Grood, positive 
people, who fancy they see a little further into a milestone 
than their neighbours, will argue stoutly that there is no 
church in Great Marlborough Street at all ; and, short 
of taking them down that well-known thoroughfare and 
showing them two ecclesiastical street-lamps on each 
side of an ordinary front door and a notice-board before 
the window, there is no convincing them. The church 
is a temporary iron structure (in ecclesiastical matters 
we seem reproducing the iron age), erected at the back 
of one of the houses in Great Marlborough Street, which 
I believe is one day to come down, along with its next- 
door neighbour, and form a splendid site for the per- 
manent church. However, there is the little church of 
St John the Baptist now, capable of holding some 200 
people, but with a district comprising some of the dirtiest ' 
of the Soho streets; and there, too, which is more to our 
immediate purpose, is one of the best choirs in London. 
The incumbent, the Rev. H. N. D'Almaine, is himself a 
musical man, and devotes a large portion of his time to 
the musical arrangements of his church. He is a mo- 
derate Broad Churchman in views, and seems to make 
it his mission to expose the fallacy which argues that 
liberal views in theological matters are incompatible with 
aesthetic beauty in worship. One fails entirely to see 
why high sacramental or sacerdotal ideas should be the 
only ones that develop logically into beauty of ritual. 
Mr D'Alrnaine, however, was educated in a good school 
in this respect, having been curate to the Rev. Harry 
Jones, when that gentleman was incumbent of St Luke's, 


Berwick Street, and the cliurcli stood almost alone in 
the capacity just named, that is, as combining something 
like ritual observances with Broad Church preaching. 

The occasion when I paid my visit to this Great 
Marlborough Street church was the festival of its patron 
saint, which was to be signalized by a musical service, 
followed by an organ recital. The organist for the even- 
ing was Mr A..Tamplm, the regular organist being Mr 
Bruce, a young but exceedingly competent man. I 
found the little place modestly but beautifully decorated 
for the occasion. St John's is wise in this respect ; it 
never overdoes its ornamentation. With small churches, 
as with small ladies, a little ornamentation goes a long 
way, and anything like excess is a fatal mistake. The 
first time strangers go to St John's they think it is 
' High/ for the Communion table is elevated and bears 
two large candles flanking a mural cross. These candles 
are not lighted, it is true ; but on St. John's day they 
were wreathed with flowers, and two large bouquets also 
stood on the alta,r. The little font was crowned with 
blossoms, and over the pulpit was a white floral cross. 
That was all. 

At eight o'clock Mr Tamplin played a brilliant volun- 
tary, and a surpliced choir soon after entered singing 
the Processional Hymn : 

Forward ! be our watchword, 

Steps and voices join'd, 
Seek the things before us, 

Not a look behind. 

This being concluded, there followed what always struck 
me as an incongruity at St John's the Exhortation was 
read. It was not taken in that dubious way which leaves 
a pleasant state of doubt as to whether one has heard 
monotonous reading or monotone technically so termed ; 
but was read in quite a colloquial tone, as if to show that 
it was designedly done. Then followed the harmonized 
confession, which was, if anything, taken too piano, but 
that is a fault on the right side. Choirs sometimes show 
their energy by screaming ; that at St John's does quite 


the reverse, and perhaps is a little disposed to rush into 
the opposite extreme. The Psalms and Lessons were 
proper, the former being sung to double Anglican chants, 
the latter read by a layman in the attire of ordinary life, 
which I thought as incongruous as the read Exhortation 
preluding a choral service. The accompaniment to the 
Psalms was as much too loud as the Confession had been 
too soft. Mr Tamplin was formerly, and until very 
lately, organist at St Luke's Church, Redcliffe Square, 
in which large building he was able to use more energy 
than at St John's. The canticles were an original com- 
position by Mr Tamplin, and hit a happy mean between 
the conventional cathedral ' service ' and the popular 
florid style now so largely adopted. That, in fact, was 
the characteristic of the whole arrangements at St 
John's a clever adaptation of the cathedral system to 
parochial requirements, preserving all the beauty of the 
former without losing sight of the congregational element 
which should distinguish the latter. A cornet-a-piston 
had been used with excellent effect during the proces- 
sional hymn, and would have come in opportunely at 
sundry passages afterwards ; but the gentleman who 
played it, a clever amateur, was not too liberal with his 
favours. The service at St John's was altogether so 
satisfactory that it makes one's remarks sound hyper- 
critical. One does not care to criticize a mediocre affair 
at all. 

Mr Tamplin's accompaniments to the Apostles' Creed 
were very telling indeed ; and one small boy who occu- 
pied a pew in front of me was so carried away that he 
sang not only the responses, but the clergyman's part 
in the suffrages that followed. Indeed he was continu- 
ally breaking out in wrong places during the subsequent 
service, and had to be forcibly repressed by his mother. 
How that boy must have envied the little choristers who 
could sing out to their hearts' content ! 

The anthem was ' The Lord be a lamp unto thy feet/ 
from Sir Julius Benedict's St Peter, and before the ser- 
mon was sung the glorious No. 320 in Hymns Ancient 
and Modern 


The Church's one Foundation 
Is Jesus Christ the Lord. 

For this Mr Tamplin had written a very striking and 
appropriate special tune, affording full scope for our 
amateur friend's brass ; but these well-known hymns get 
associated with equally well-known tunes, and any com- 
poser who writes a new tune does it at a disadvantage. 
People are always ready to exclaim ( The old is better. 7 
Mr D' Almaine has one surpassing merit ; he preaches, 
not only remarkably good, but most exceptionally short 
sermons. A quarter of an hour is about his average ; 
twenty minutes his maximum length. On this occasion 
he was at his shortest, and his address had little of the 
homiletic about it. 

He took as his text, Matthew xi. 18, 19, ' John came 
neither eating nor drinking, and they say, " He hath 
a devil." The Son of Man came eating and drinking, 
and they say, " Behold a man gluttonous and a wine- 
bibber/' ' 

I feel, said Mr D' Almaine, I may with propriety 
address you in a somewhat less formal manner this 
evening than is usual in sermons. I shall detain you 
but a very short time, because I have no doubt you are 
more in a humour for the musical treat we are looking 
forward to after the service is over than for a homily. 
But I venture on a few words of something like a sermon, 
because I cannot bear on any occasion to give colour to 
the unkind taunt that we subordinate the higher work 
of the Christian ministry here to the cultivation of music. 
And I am quite sure that none of you who are sincerely 
interested in the work of this church would wish me to 
do so. 

Because the Son of Man came ' eating and drinking/ 
malicious persons, who could find no fault with Him for 
that, said that, He did it to excess that He was ' a man 
gluttonous and a winebibber/ 

And in precisely the same spirit now, because we pre- 
fer good music to bad, the uncharitable say that we carry 
it to excess, and that we turn the house of God into a 
consecrated music-hall. 


It is a taunt which is utterly untrue of us. Our whole 
effort is to make the music here the appropriate expres- 
sion of our devotion. We have in this church a regular 
congregation as warmly attached and interested in its 
services, and, I venture to say, as devout as any, but I 
doubt if six members of it come here for the music alone. 
It is scarcely necessary to say that for London, where 
the competition is so severe, it is not good enough for 
that. With the very limited means at our command we 
should be hopelessly distanced by our neighbours if we 
started on so unworthy a race. It is, I am assured, pre- 
cisely the element of quiet but sincere devotion in our 
services to which we owe such prosperity as we may have 

But what I want to say is, that we endeavour to make 
the musical part of services here as good as we can, 
and that we honestly believe we are right in doing so. 
There are, I know, grave objections to choirs, so there 
are to everything. There are grave objections to ser- 
mons, and it would be idle for a man to sit down hope- 
lessly and helplessly, with his hands before him, waiting 
to begin any work whatever until he could find an abso- 
lute perfect tool to do it with. Indeed, if you insist on 
absolute purity of devotion in those who conduct church 
services, you would not only have no choirs, but you 
would have no bishops and no clergy. 

In this world, if we have work to do, we must do it 
with blunt tools if we cannot get sharp ones, and a wise 
man, instead of throwing away an imperfect instrument, 
will try to mend it and to do his work with it as well sa 
he can. 

This I know, and am persuaded of, that Christian de- 
votion and music are natural allies. It may be rare to 
find them blended in due proportions, but it would as- 
suredly be a good thing for our English Christianity if 
religious people were a little more musical, and musical 
people a little more religious. 

For this is really the question which underlies the 
whole thing. ' What are our Religious Services ? J 
Penitential Exercises endured once or twice a week by 


constraint of conscience ? . Nothing is more remote from 
their true intention. The stern the penitential part of 
Religion is the daily strife with evil, the conflict with 
selfishness and all the hosts of sins, little and great, 
which mar the image of God in our souls. Our services 
in church should be things of natural pleasure and re- 
freshment. In church we need some contrast to set 
against the severity of the struggle with sin and the 
dulness of daily toil. Life with all is more' or less sad 
and colourless, and in church we need warmth and re- 
freshment. The hours spent here should be short inter- 
vals of repose from strife and sorrow, when our souls 
may rest with pleasure on the hills from whence the 
towers of the Celestial City are seen, moments of con- 
tentment and delight in which weary spirits may renew 
their strength to pursue the course along the narrow, 
stony road that leads to life. 

With such a view of religious services the gratification 
of the most refined artistic taste in them, if made sub- 
ordinate to the thought it clothes, is perfectly consistent, 
and art and beauty are not smuggled into them with an 
apology, but are recognized as the lawful ornaments of 
genuine worship. 

The Son of Man came eating and drinking that is, 
sin excepted, leading the natural life of man on earth, 
exalting into the service of God the gifts which He had 
given for our subsistence and pleasure here. 

There are, I know, many good people who take an 
entirely different view of the object of religious services. 

The world seems to me to be alive with persons who, 
from their youth up, have been taught that religion 
consists exclusively of church- or chapel-going that 
church-going is religion. And I have always noticed 
that such persons always regard it as an infinitely weari- 
some performance; that they need to be constantly 
nrged or bribed to it, as to a severe duty, the true notion 
of its pleasures being a thought they have never attained. 
And this further may be remarked, that the steadiest 
an& most long-suffering among them seize any excuse 
for a little relaxation of their stern discipline; with a 


sense of relief they can ill conceal. It appears to them, 
I fancy, a grim foretaste of what is to come of what 
must surely seem to them ironically described as the 
' joys of Heaven.' 

Joy ! No ! Only a very dull and colourless alternative 
to escape a more hideous fate ! But really such ignor- 
ance is unworthy of an educated, to say nothing of a 
Christian, people. 

The battle of life is hard enough and stern enough, 
God knows, to call forth all our manhood. And he who 
has a turn for the severer discipline of religion may 
abundantly find its exercise in trying to lead a pure and 
simple life amidst the manifold temptations and sorrows 
of the world. And the more manfully he bears himself 
in the fight, the more will he value those quiet moments 
in which he may turn aside for a while to refresh his 
soul with the beauty of worship, and its lawful access- 

While the collection was being made, the choir sang 
H. Smart's Te Deum, which was rather too long for the 
place it occupied, after a service and before a recital. 
I venture to think Mr Tamplin would have kept a better 
auditory had this been abridged. Then Hymn 36 was 
sung as a recessional, and the recital began. 

Organ recitals are so new a feature in our English 
churches that people do not quite know what to do 
while they are going on. Some few solved that diffi- 
culty by leaving altogether; but those who stayed 
seemed to labour under exceeding doubt as to whether 
they ought to talk or not. A few did so under protest, 
and as though they had not made up their minds about 
the legality of the proceeding, but when the choir re- 
turned from the vestry and dispersed themselves over 
the church they seemed to lend a professional air to the 
occasion which set us at our ease. 

Mr Tamplin is an exceedingly brilliant player, and 
the first piece was in his most brilliant style, but I could 
not recognize it, and there were no programmes. T&en 
followed a slow air, evidently a part of the same work, . 


and after it a martial movement, which I felt annoyed at 
not recognizing. The execution was marvellous, and I 
am sure the difficulty with the listeners was now, not 
whether to talk or be silent, but to refrain from ap- 
plauding or in some way expressing their satisfaction. 
Being determined to satisfy myself as to the work I had 
heard, I applied to Mr Tamplin, who shrugged his 
shoulders and said he could not tell me. He had simply 
been extemporizing. If I was amazed at the lissom 
fingers of the executant, still more so was I at the fertile 
brain of the composer which had supplied them with 
material. The recital was as brief in proportion as the 
incumbent's sermon ; for Mr Tamplin only added a 
fourth piece, which was again original, and consisted of 
a clever fugue in four parts on the subject of the Reces- 
sional Hymn. 

I believe I am betraying confidence in stating the 
authorship of the pieces played at this recital ; but I do 
so deliberately, and by way of illustrating the text or 
adage that men do not or should not hide their light 
under a bushel. 


was a time, and that not so long ago either, 
JL when a study of church music would have been' com- 
prised within very narrow limits indeed ; for a choral 
service, or indeed any attention to the musical portion 
of worship, was deemed significant of a particular set of 
opinions, and there would have been absolutely no 
material for such a paper as the present, except in 
Eoman Catholic and ' High ' Anglican churches : but 
happily we may now say, nous avons change tout cela. 
A due regard for the artistic element in worship is no 


longer regarded as symptomatic of advanced opinions. 
Were it so that need not scare us from the subject, but 
it would narrow our horizon. As things are, however, 
we find some of our most distinctive services, apart, of 
course, from cathedrals, among the Evangelical and 
Dissenting bodies. Let me say one word by way of 
definition. I do not of necessity mean by a choral serv- 
ice one where the minister as well as the choir sings or 
intones. I mean simply a service where the ingredient 
of praise is elevated, as surely it ought to be, to a par 
with those of prayer and preaching. With this larger 
acceptation of the term in my mind I can think of 
several Nonconformist places of worship where the serv- 
ice is as truly choral as at Westminster Abbey, St 
George's Catholic Cathedral, or the great Synagogue. 

For the purpose of writing this article, then, I went, 
on the morning of Trinity Sunday, across the unroman- 
tic cabbage-gardens around Earl's Court station, where 
lingering hedgerows still remain to assure us the country 
once existed, and passing down a verdant lane fragrant 
with hawthorn flowers, entered the spacious church of 
St Matthias, West Brompton. I was courteously re- 
ceived by the incumbent, the Rev. S. C. Haines, and by 
him introduced to the organist, Mr J. Mallitt Jones,- 
who at once asked me to accompany him to the organ 
gallery, advising me, however, to leave my hat behind, 
as the accommodation was limited. The space allowed 
for the organist by the builder, Mr Jones, of the Fulham 
Hoad, was indeed small. It was what the theatrical 
gentleman in ' Nicholas Nickleby ' termed ' pernicious 
snug/ but I quite forgot any discomfort in the pleasure 
of listening to Mr Jones's manipulation of his excellent 
instrument, and at the same time witnessing a service, 
for the grandeur of which I was altogether unprepared. 
My reason for selecting St Matthias' was that I had 
understood the service there presented a judicious com- 
bination of the Gregorian and Anglican elements ; and 
this I found to be the truth, though only half the truth. 
From my point of view as a clerical critic, I may be 
allowed to premise that I do not altogether like Grego- 


rians, though. I recognize their utility where only unison 
singing can be accomplished ; and when they are 
rendered by a large body of voices, as I have heard 
them at St Paul's and at Notre Dame in Paris, or still 
more recently at the Abbey Church of Pontigny, during 
the pilgrimage, the eifect is very fine j but even so, I 
am told, since I plead guilty to liking melody, that the 
tones I most admire are not Gregorian at all. But this 
by the way. Mr Jones having assumed a violet 'cassock 
and short surplice, we adjourned to the organ gallery, 
and, after a cleverly extemporized voluntary, he struck 
up the hymn 282 in ' Hymns Ancient and Modern, 7 and 
the procession of choir and clergy entered the church, 
passing down the north aisle from the vestry, and then 
up the nave to the chancel, singing the words : 

' day of rest and gladness, 

day of joy and light, 
balm of care and sadness, 
Most beautiful, most bright.' 

The procession consisted of a thurifer swinging his 
censer of' incense, a cross-bearer, with four banners 
borne at intervals among the long line of choristers, 
and emblazoned respectively with the Agnus Dei, the 
Good Shepherd, the Virgin, and the Blessed Sacrament. 
Behind these walked the two curates, the preacher, and 
lastly the incumbent. 

After the harmonized Confession by Barnby, and 
Tallis's Yersicles, came the Gregorian portion of the 
service. The Ferial Psalter was used, and the Venite 
was sung to the first of the Ancient Tones, the two 
opening Psalms for the day (23rd of the month) to the 
first Tone, the last the Jubilant 113th being taken 
to the fifth Tone with the Roman Mediation. Mr 
Jones's accompaniment was most florid, and quite re- 
moved the sometimes harsh and unmusical character of 
the Gregorian music. There are about fifty members 
of the choir, and a fair proportion mustered on that 
day, only three of the voices being professional. Farther 
on in the service I saw the necessity for these three 
exceptional voices. 


During the lessons, I craned my neck over and took 
stock of the congregation. Every nook of the church 
was filled, and it was quite evident that those present 
thoroughly sympathized with the tone of things at St 
Matthias', 'High' as it undoubtedly was. If, as I 
understand it, the object of the choral element is to give 
expression to the devotional sentiment of the worship- 
pers, I cannot help thinking the cultus at this church 
exactly answered its end. To some persons, of course, 
such a service would be distasteful, and therefore nnde- 
votional ; but in that case empty or scantily- occupied 
benches would be the result. In reply to some who 
have said that an elaborate ritual was forced on the St 
Matthias' people, I can only answer that the church was 
crammed both at Matins and also at the ' Mass ' which 
immediately succeeded it. The only desideratum I saw 
was a little toning-down of the light in the church, 
which stained glass would at once effect ; as yet only a 
few of the windows have this advantage. 

Now came the Anglican element in this most compo- 
site service. The Te Deum was sung to three single 
chants from Ouseley and Monk's Canticles. Then 
ensued a Gregorian Benedictus to the Seventh Tone, 
and the Athanasian Creed to the eighth. Here again 
Mr Jones's accompaniments were most effective, as 
also in the Lord's Prayer which succeeded. The An- 
them was from Spohr's Last Judgment, the portions 
selected being ' Come up hither/ with the chorus ' Holy, 
holy.' Hereupon followed the sermon ; but I must 
plead guilty to talking very hard with Mr Jones all the 
time, and afterwards waiting with some impatience for 
Schubert's Mass in B flat, which was to succeed. 

The clergy having assumed their Eucharistic vest- 
ments of white, and the numerous candles being kindled 
until the altar was one mass of light and flowers, the 
Communion Service commenced. In order to adapt 
the Roman Mass to Anglican purposes, the Kyrie has, 
of course, to be shortened, and the Gloria removed from 
its place at the beginning to the end ; and I conld not 
quite decide whether the magnificent cadences of Schu- 


bert, so thoroughly of the nature of an ouverture, did 
not suffer from their displacement, grand as was still 
the climax which they formed. With these two modifi- 
cations, and also the arrangement of the Benedictus and 
Agnus Dei before and after the Prayer of Consecration, 
the Mass exactly suits the English Communion Service. 
Were I to criticize the work itself, except for the special 
purpose for which it was being used, I should deservedly 
draw down upon myself from musical men the admoni- 
tion 7ie sutor ultra crepidam. To prove again how mi- 
nutely the congregation followed the service, I noticed 
that the large majority knelt at the ' Incarnatus ' in the 
Credo ; a few compromised the matter by standing with 
bent heads ; while others, evidently strangers either to 
the church or to the ' use,' stood erect and simply looked 
uncomfortable until the rest rose again. For the Offer- 
tory Mr Jones played Handel's ' Holy, holy/ and here 
I could not help wondering how it is that we have not, 
according to the rule of supply answering demand, more 
works (I myself do not know any), either original or 
adapted, specially arranged for the Anglican Mass I 
mean with short Kyrie, Communion Hymn, &c., all of 
a piece. The necessary interpolations of other works 
rather break the uniformity. The hymn which on this 
occasion followed the Agnus Dei during Communion 
was 397 in 'Hymns Ancient and Modern/ sung to a 
beautiful melody by Rossini, taken from the c Crown of 
Jesus Hymnal/ Though this was of course a High 
Mass, yet I found a large number of persons communi- 
cated; and this to a clerical observer formed a very 
distinct point of divergence from the Roman custom, 
where the sacrificial act alone gives its significance to 
the High Mass. It amounted, in fact, to the introduc- 
tion of what always seems wanting the congregational 
element. The people are partakers in the highest act 
of worship, not mere spectators. I must not omit to 
mention that the celebrant's portions of this service 
were artistically performed ; the ' Comfortable Words ' 
and f Sursum Corda' were most elaborately inflected, 
and their execution faultless. The professional tenor, 



bass, and soprano were especially useful in the conclud- 
ing ' Gloria in Excelsis ; [ but the amateur portion of 
the choir, excepting a tendency to get flat here and 
there during a very trying service, did their parts 
wonderfully well. 

I am no optimist. If there were what I considered, 
from my exceptional point of view, faults, I should 
note them. My own proclivities are nothing to the 
purpose : but -taking the end and aim of any choral 
service to be the expression of praise, I could not descend 
from my coign of vantage, while Mr Jones played sug- 
gestively f Be not afraid'' from. Elijah, without feeling 
that I had been furtively present at a very solemn act 
of congregational worship. 


AS I was expatiating the other day in the immediate 
neighbourhood of Oxford Street I found myself 
suddenly, and before I was aware of it, in front of the 
magnificent Gothic church in Margaret Street, which 
marks the site of one of the earliest abodes of Puseyism. 
Hereabouts it was that the Rev. W. <J. E. Bennett, 
Vicar of Frome-Selwood, gave almost the earliest impetus 
to that movement which has developed as phenomenally 
in one direction as Moody-and-Sankeyism in the other. 
A larger crowd and longer line of carriages than would 
be accounted for by a week-day celebration at noon, 
were outside, so being always anxious to learn the very 
latest intelligence in the religious world, I entered the 
church. Before I did so, however, I guessed the cause 
of the gathering. A fashionable marriage was about to 
take place, and most probably, I inferred, it would be 
choral, and so suited to my present purpose. I dared 


not ask the venerable cassocked verger at the doorway, 
for I had already done so on several occasions when 
acting as Special Commissioner for a daily paper, and 
always got one stereotyped reply, 'We do not desire 
publicity. We give no information/ He was always 
courteous, but firm, so I did not trouble him. Besides, 
the poor man was infinitely distressed, because the 
ladies, who kept coming in shoals, would go and sit on 
the gentlemen's side of the church, instead of leaving it 
to me and about five others of the male sex. There 
was some excuse for this irregularity, because all the 
ladies' seats were full, but it distressed the correct 
verger to the very quick. 

I found a congregation of about a hundred ladies and 
five small boys assembled, most, if not all of whom, 
appeared to be attracted by the wedding rather than 
the celebration, if I might judge from the subsequent 
fact that nobody communicated. Two large tapers were 
burning on the altar, and a clergyman, habited in a 
white satin cope richly embroidered, was reading the 
Gospel when I entered, a little after half -past eleven. 
He was reading so very slowly that I began to dread 
whether he would have concluded before the canonical 
hour of noon, after which the wedding could not be 
legally solemnized. Just at the Prayer of Consecration I 
saw a kind of sea-green mass float into the porch. These 
were the six bridesmaids, who significantly asked, ' How 
long ? ' referring, I presumed, to the present service, 
and not to their appearance in another capacity. The 
ceremony is always suggestive of the latter demand to 
young ladies who officiate as assistants, I have heard. 

Nobody communicated, although the celebrant extem- 
porized a special invitation, which was not in the Prayer 
Book, and which would, I should think, render him 
amenable to the Public Worship Act. The service was 
therefore soon over, and just before the close twelve 
nice little boys in cassocks filed through the mass of 
sea-green bridesmaids at the porch, and went to the 
sacristy. I was not there in vain : the service would be 


By tliis time the gathering at the west end of the 
church was most incongruous. There were the sea-green 
ladies waiting in the porch mixed up with horsey-looking 
grooms, bnried under portentous bouquets, and palefaced 
Sceurs de Charite in black habits and white bibs, looking 
on sadly enough at the ceremony. I wonder what they 
were thinking of? The bridegroom was marshalled to 
the chancel rail, where he knelt down, looking the pic- 
ture of misery. Then the bride entered with the con- 
ventional costume and bouquet as large as an umbrella. 
But I am ignorant of the mysteries of Le Follet, and 
could not, if I would, describe the costume further than 
it left a general impression of gauziness and sickly white, 
just as the bridesmaids did of sea-green and surpassing 
loveliness. But I am carried away by my feelings, and 
forgetting that my mission is musical. 

A brief and anything but inspiriting voluntary being 
played, the twelve little boys dressed in white surplices 
came into the choir, and two clergymen in surplices and 
white stoles. At the same time the bridal procession 
moved eastward, to relieve the monotony of the bride- 
groom. I could not for the life of me help thinking that 
it looked like the chorus of Oceanides going to visit 
Prometheus on his solitary rock. It must have been 
the sea-green costume that inspired so heterodox an 
idea. The procession was slow; like a cheerful funeral. 

When the correct verger had put out the altar lights, 
which I fancy in his bewilderment he had forgotten up 
to this point, the twelve little boys sang very sweetly, 
and to a florid tune, the hymn beginning, c The Yoice 
that breathed o'er Eden ; ' and then the younger of the 
two priests, who was perfectly hidden in voluminous 
whiskers, commenced the Exhortation in a musical 
voice. The betrothal took place at the chancel steps, 
and here Frederick and Constance were made man and 
wife, after which they went in procession to the altar, 
while the psalm was being chanted to the 5th Gregorian 
tone. The young ladies in sea-green remained pictur- 
esquely posed in the centre of the church, and I 
noticed they all bowed at the Gloria as if they had 


rehearsed it. There could not have been an Evan- 
gelical amongst them. The Lord's Prayer was beau- 
tifully accompanied ; and the suffrages following it in- 
flected by the officiating priest in a clear voice and in 
faultless tune. I wondered whether he had practised it 
with the choir before, for he was not one of the clergy 
of the church ; indeed, I ascertained afterwards he was 
the brother of the bride. He was evidently quite au 
fait at a choral service. 

The concluding prayers and collects having been de- 
livered in an equally musical way, the second clergyman 
took his share of the ceremony by reading the Exhort- 
ation. I rather hoped a sermon would, have been 
substituted, as is sometimes done now, but he contented 
himself with the stereotyped address. Although this 
is intended for the whole congregation, being directed 
to all those who are married or intend to take the holy 
estate of matrimony upon them as no doubt the six 
young ladies did who were still posed picturesquely in 
the centre this clergyman delivered it quite sotto voce, 
and as if it were confidentially addressed to the bride 
and bridegroom only. This was really the only mistake 
in the proceedings. Whatever may be said of reading 
the prayers in a manner that shall make them ' not un- 
derstanded of the people ' and I fail to see the rationale 
of that there can be no excuse for delivering an ex- 
hortation to the people on the duty of husbands towards 
their wives and wives towards their husbands in such a 
way that nobody but the bride and bridegroom, and 
possibly the first couple of sea-green bridesmaids, could 
catch a syllable of it. However, we got in due time 
down to ' any amazement/ after which came a second 
hymn, and then the organist played a soft strain while 
we knelt in silent prayer. It was a sight in itself to 
see the bridesmaids grouped on their knees in the 
centre. No coryphees could have surpassed the unani- 
mity with which they subsided. 

The soft music gave place to the introductory notes 
of Mendelssohn's ' Wedding March/ which was admir- 
ably played by the organist; and the striking ceremony 


concluded by the curate emerging from the sanctum in 
the attire of every- day life, and locking the chancel 
gates full in the faces of the sea-green ladies, as if he 
feared they would violate the sanctity of the holy place 
by entering it. They did not seem to have the least 
intention of committing such a breach of decorum ; but 
the curate quite scowled at them, and walked away like 
a clerical gaoler. I fancy that any irruption from the 
outer world is rather distressing to the habitues of All 
Saints'. The celebrant at the Communion had to invite 
communicants as I mentioned and also to make a 
pause in the Benediction at the end, and request silence. 
It was only, I think, that people were coming in fast, and 
not being familiar with the manners and customs of All 
Saints', jumped to the conclusion that they were very 
late for the wedding, and so got excited. 

Had all the "< attendants at the wedding been as well 
posted up in their parts as the first officiating clergy- 
man and the six bridesmaids, the ceremony would have 
been a very striking one ; though here, as in the An- 
glican mass, it struck me that an advantage would be 
gained if a whole service were composed from beginning 
to end by some one competent man, so that a continuous 
vein of thought might run through the whole. Anglican 
services are too apt to assume this patch-work character. 
Here the hymns were florid, the psalm Gregorian, and 
the responses, I think, an adaptation of Tallis. There 
is certainly room for a musically arranged version of the 
English ritual. 

Of the general appropriateness of music as an adjunct 
of the marriage service, probably none, except very 
prejudiced people indeed, will- entertain any doubt. Even 
the wise man would confess this to be ' a time to laugh ; ' 
and, as Tom Hood beautifully said, ' Bells are music's 
laughter/ We have a peal of bells in few of our 
London churches, but we have good choirs in very many 
of them. The